White Lie
by solveariddle
Summary: Cal believes that Gillian is a bad liar, but he doesn't know that for all these years she has been hiding something from him. A terrible truth that comes back to haunt them and puts them in mortal danger.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So, here is my new story. I really hope there are still some Callian fans out there who are interested in reading this. There are way too few new LTM stories here on FFN.

As to the set-up of the story – I wanted to write something emotional and exciting at the same time and came up with this idea of an alternative version of the brilliant episode "Sweet Sixteen". The timeline is a bit tricky. This takes place sometime in Season Three after "Dirty Loyal", but – and this is important – the episode "Sweet Sixteen" in Season Two never happened, meaning that Gillian never told Cal that she was approached to make him back away from the Doyle case. It's also important, though, that the Doyle case itself and the Cal/Gillian therapy sessions in the past happened very well. Confused? Don't worry. The story is written in a way that you don't have to know anything about the episode and will understand it anyway (at least I hope so). And now... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own LTM, but you already knew that, didn't you?

* * *

He came to her house. Not her office. Not anywhere else. Her _house_. In the middle of the night. His pale face stared at her through the pane of her kitchen window when she poured herself a glass of milk because she couldn't sleep. She startled and almost dropped the glass since it looked as if he was standing right behind her in the kitchen. Then she realized that it was only a reflection and relaxed a little. There was no intruder inside her house. The man was outside. Frozen in place. Almost like a ghost. It was eerie either way, and she retreated slowly to get to the phone and call the police just when she recognized his face. Panic exploded in her chest. There was no way she could call the police or anybody else. She was in this alone.

There are moments in life you bury so deep within yourself that you can almost trick your memory into believing that they never happened. Gillian Foster knows that man, but she prefers to deny it. It is the same man who came by to pay her an unsolicited visit eight years ago. He scared her to death back then just like now. Save that she never talked about it.

No one knows.

* * *

_Make sure Cal Lightman stays out of this, _she remembers the man's quiet, yet threatening, voice from eight years ago as if it happened yesterday._ Otherwise, Jimmy Doyle won't be the only man who lost his wife and child._

Only very few people are aware how Cal Lightman and Gillian Foster met. There was a time when they both worked for the Pentagon. Cal was involved, in the broadest sense, in the inadvertent killing of the wife and daughter of a mobster, Jimmy Doyle. It wasn't Cal's fault, but he felt guilty anyway and was much too interested in finding out the details. Those details unfortunately being that the Pentagon had ordered Jimmy Doyle's execution and instead had killed his family by mistake. Civilian casualties. Cal was ordered by his superiors to see a psychologist – Dr. Gillian Foster. It was a clever move. If he found out something, they could class him as a nutcase. The main purpose of the therapy was, though, to avoid this scenario and make Cal simply back away.

So, the powers that be shamelessly used Gillian to accomplish that purpose. Before the therapy started, a man approached her at her house at night and made abundantly clear what she had to do in order to avoid further civilian casualties. _Make sure Cal Lightman stays out of this... _

Gillian had to do something she had never done before, something she detests. She had to deliberately manipulate a patient. The only way she could justify that was by telling herself that it was for Cal's best, that she was protecting his family and thereby him. It all happened subtly, between the lines, although she sometimes had the impression that Cal suspected something. And, to her surprise, it worked. Cal backed away, and she could finally pretend that nothing ever happened.

After that, they became business partners and close friends. Well, Gillian isn't exactly sure what they are to each other these days. Sometimes it almost feels like old times, meaning the _good_ old times with friendly banter and mutual trust. Then again, more often than not, it feels as if their balance is off, as if they are only one step away from completely falling apart.

The fact that their relationship started off with a lie, even if it was a white lie, and that she never told him the truth doesn't make things easier. Not when it all threatens to come to the surface just now that the atmosphere is already tense and strained. She never told Cal about it – not because she was afraid or shied away from it but because the danger was still out there at first and then, when she eventually supposed it was safe to tell him, it didn't seem to matter anymore anyway after so many years.

Obviously, she was wrong.

* * *

The thought, how many nights the ghost from her past must have been waiting outside her house for her to wake up and come down to see him, still makes her shiver. Maybe it was the first time, and it was a coincidence that she woke up that night, but somehow she doesn't believe it.

It took only a quick movement of the man's head to signal her that she was supposed to open the door. Gillian didn't want to, but she also knew she had no choice. The only person who could have helped her in a situation like this was Cal, and he was the one person she couldn't call. Therefore, she opened the front door but didn't step back to let the man in. Apparently, he had expected that and had made sure that the motion detector didn't react so that they were surrounded by utter darkness and couldn't be seen either way. It all was so surreal that the next morning she almost thought it had been a dream, a nightmare. Hushed voices. Shadowy figures. But then she saw the dirty footprints outside and knew it actually had happened.

_Jimmy Doyle is looking for revenge_, she recognized the man's voice, just as well as his face, the moment he started to speak. _If he tries to contact Lightman, make sure your partner does the right thing._

_The right thing?_ she asked, anger allowing her a slight touch of boldness, but, of course, she received no answer and needed none.

After the man was gone, the tension left her body, and her knees gave way. She dropped to the floor, clutching her legs, rocking back and forth like a scared child. She couldn't believe that it was happening all over again, still can't believe it.

Cal has a family, an ex-wife and daughter he both loves. They are in immediate danger now just as they were eight years ago, and it is once more up to her to save their lives without Cal noticing. Because Cal hasn't changed at all. He is to this day the reckless risk taker. Hence, she can't tell him because telling him means giving him irrefutable proof that it was a conspiracy that killed Doyle's family. And Cal will never let it go as soon as he becomes aware of that – risk or not. Maybe there is a slight chance that he will back away for the sake of his daughter, Emily, but as unpredictable as he is behaving these days, Gillian isn't even sure of that.

_Make sure your partner does the right thing... _The man's words are caught in an infinite loop in Gillian's head. How is she supposed to know whether Doyle contacts Cal? It's not as if he tells her everything these days. In fact, he barely tells her _anything_. So, how is she supposed to know, let alone prevent further damage? She simply has no idea, and the haunting anxiety is slowly but surely wearing her down.

It all happened just a few days ago, and already, she can barely sleep or eat. The only thing that plays into her hands is that Cal has more trouble reading her than anybody else. He probably believes she is still angry because they seriously argued about the Wallowski case. But it won't be long until he will start wondering whether there is more to it. She already has lost weight and caught Cal's concerned gaze this morning because her dress that used to flatter her curves is a bit too loose. It's almost ironic that he shows his concern now that she can't risk to let him come closer – no matter how much she wants it, no matter how much she has been wanting a change for the better during the last weeks, months even.

_Make sure your partner does the right thing... _Gillian doesn't know anymore what is right or wrong. She wants to tell Cal everything; she wants to let him come closer, but she knows she can't.

There is only one thing Gillian Foster is sure of these days. If she doesn't find a way to handle the situation soon, it will either get Cal or a member of his family killed or tear them apart. In the worst case, both of it will happen.

* * *

**So much for the set-up of the story. I hope it's a good foundation for emotions and adventure as well.**

**Next chapter: Cal starts to get suspicious...**

**Your opinion is very appreciated. Confused? Bored? Interested?**

**Thank you for leaving a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** First of all, thank you very much for your reviews and alerts. It's great that there are still so many Callian fans out there! To those of you who reviewed as a guest: I can't thank you personally, but be assured that I appreciate your support. Every review is a gift and makes me love writing even more than I already do.

Since I received some questions regarding my updating schedule - I plan to update at least once a week, twice if possible. Due to overtime, I'm running rather low on time to write currently, but I enjoy writing Callian so much that the story is in my head day and night. Therefore, I hope you'll stick to reading it even if there should be a short delay in updating now and then.

This chapter is some more about the tense atmosphere and Gillian's conflict how to handle the situation. The story is supposed to be a mixture of the emotional conflict between Cal and Gillian and the action that comes along with the plot concerning Doyle. Oh well, we'll see what will come of it. For now - enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

Gillian sits in her office, tired and exhausted due to the lack of sleep because the intricate situation with its yet unpredictable but quite likely further complications is keeping her awake at night. In these times, she is almost grateful that she has no family. As sad as it is, there is at least no one who can be threatened, who potentially has to suffer. Well, except Cal that is.

"Gill...," and there he is, storming into her office like every day because this is how he behaves. King of everything.

"Cal," she tries to fake her best smile and usually she would have a good chance of tricking him. Most of the time he can't read her. One of the rare things she has over him, and it would be a lie to pretend she doesn't enjoy it. But today she closed off too late; he already caught the almost imperceptible twinge of sadness that surrounds her and was written all over her face when he came in.

He stops in the middle of the movement and does this awkward back and forth wobble that is his trademark, like a child diagnosed with ADD. "What's up?"

She goes for a blatant lie, "Nothing." He already knows she is hiding something. He doesn't know what it is, though, and considering the tension between them recently, he perhaps can be led to believe that she simply has a bad day.

And to her surprise, it works. A shadow crosses his face. He doesn't like the tension between them. She doesn't like it either, but he never properly said sorry for the whole Wallowski fiasco, so why should she care. Save that she cares. As if she ever could not.

Cal goes back to normal, ignoring the tension between them, an uncomfortable distance replacing their friendly banter that was as natural as breathing once. He tells her about a current case that came in. Sometimes he tells her; sometimes he does not. Depends on his form of the day. He probably doesn't even notice anymore how much his arbitrariness and highhandedness is hurting her.

But that's not important right now, Gillian tells herself, repressing her self-pity. What is important is that there is no sign that anything out of the order happened so far – his talkative mood playing into her hands. So, she pretends to listen to his words that are no more than static, and he pretends to be interested in her opinion, or maybe, he actually is, at least for today. Nothing is for sure anymore.

When Cal eventually walks out again, he doesn't even bother to say goodbye or look at her, only his hunched shoulders implying that he is somewhat affected by it all.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Gillian grabs the CD that was delivered to her this morning along with the usual office mail and that she shoved casually under a stack of paper when Cal came in. It is labeled _Cal Lightman, therapy session, No. 1_. Of course, she thought it to be possible that her office was bugged back then. She was working at the Pentagon, after all. Nevertheless, she didn't know until now that such a recording existed, and it makes her dislike that part of her past even more. Although she didn't listen to it as yet, she has no doubt that she will hear Cal's voice and her own, knows it is no fake. Who is behind this? It is not the first time she ponders on this question even if the result always is the same – it doesn't matter. She is up against an overly powerful opponent. At that time, she reported solely to her superior, Andrews, but who knows whose marionette he was or still is. Gillian opens her roll-fronted cabinet and puts the CD into the lowest drawer under some document files. Cal does a lot of things. He doesn't ransack her office though and neither does the staff. Therefore, she could take the CD home, but it's easier to hide it here. She doesn't want it to poison the atmosphere of her house. And she also doesn't want to throw it away, an inner voice telling her that maybe she will need it later on.

* * *

The days pass and nothing happens save that she and Cal talk even less. If that is possible. Gillian knows that she has to think of something. The way they are becoming more and more estranged from each other, she will never perceive if Doyle approaches Cal.

But, even worse, what is she going to do if she detects that Doyle actually contacted Cal? How is she going to stop Cal? Let alone Doyle, a mobster. More than once, Gillian considers to tell Cal everything. The way he behaves, though, holds her back. Truth be told, he is a loose canon, and she can't estimate at all how he would react, whether she would be able to get through to him or whether he would just join Doyle in his revenge plans no matter at what cost.

Hence, they continue this balancing act. Observing each other, circling around each other. Sometimes Gillian almost wonders who is her opponent – some unknown shadowy figure, Doyle or Cal?

* * *

After another long day, Gillian is about to head home. Her tiredness has reached worrying levels; she still barely finds rest at night and almost fell asleep during a meeting today. She knows that Cal noticed it. He tried to talk to her when the meeting was over, caught her wrist on her way out to stop her, but she wouldn't let him talk to her and just left. This is a new level of rudeness, and Cal was apparently shocked by her behavior. Gillian, on the other hand, is too exhausted to care. When she walks down the hallway, she passes his office. The door is ajar, and he is obviously inside, but she doesn't knock to say goodbye, doesn't go in to apologize for her earlier rudeness. She just leaves.

Gillian doesn't go home, though, the prospect of another sleepless night too unsettling. Instead, she does something very un-Foster like. She goes to a bar to have a drink. Not to get drunk, but one or two drinks may help her to fall asleep later. God, if only she could sleep one damn night or at least a few hours at a time. Another un-Foster like behavior. She swears a lot these days. Only in her imagination so far. Yet, this is not like her. It's getting more and more difficult to keep it all inside.

So, it is this strange picture – Gillian Foster, sitting at the far end of a bar with a drink – that Eli Loker sees when he comes in. Life is a bitch sometimes. His date was a complete failure and now this. He must pick the one bar in town his superior frequents, or more likely than not, he managed to come here on the one and only evening of the year she decided to do the same. However, it's late, the bar is quite empty, and she looked up when he came in. Too late to pretend he didn't see her or that she didn't see him. Therefore, he approaches the table she is sitting at alone.

"Good evening, Dr. Foster."

Awkward doesn't even begin to describe the situation. When he is standing right beside her, looking at her, he is startled, though, how dead beat she appears to be. Eli Loker and Gillian Foster had their fair share of arguments, but they respect each other, and right now, he is honestly worried about her. Of course, he already noticed at work that she is very exhausted recently, talked with Ria about it. All the same, they decided to ignore it because it is none of their business. They are staff. Foster and Lightman are the superiors. Period. Lightman told them more than once to mind their own business when one of them expressed interest or concern at a situation regarding Gillian Foster. If there is someone minding her business, it will be Cal Lightman and nobody else. Save that Lightman and Foster barely talk recently. It takes no expert in micro expressions to perceive this.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" her voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he is staring at her.

"I'm sorry, um, I...," Loker starts, but Gillian interrupts him with a tired gesture.

"Leave or sit down, but don't stand there staring at me as if you saw a ghost," she says, looking down at her hands, at the table, anywhere but at him.

Eli sits down opposite to her before he can reflect about it. It's a table for four. Does he really want to be here? The answer is no, but now it's too late.

"So, what brings you here at this late hour, Dr. Foster?"

It's this mixture of his sharp-tongued manner and the real concern shining through she likes about him. There were even moments in the past when she thought he was flirting with her or at least would be if she wasn't his superior. Then again, he told her once that he doesn't go for married women. Perhaps the same is true for divorced. Whatever... she registers that her thoughts are wandering. She had only one drink but already feels the effects of the alcohol. It is comfortable. The right balance to make her sleepy.

"Well, I think it's Gillian here," she replies.

"Okay, I'm Eli," he says with a smile that is definitely bordering on flirting, and she can't help but smile back.

"So, what brings you here at this late hour, _Gillian_?" Loker asks again, sharp-tongued, indeed. He won't let it go.

She just shakes her head and looks away, well aware he can read that something is going on, something more than just a bad day. Gillian is so tired of hiding her feelings, of dealing with her fear what may happen alone, that the urge to tell him is almost overwhelming. Almost. It is far too high a risk to actually do it.

"Wow," he states, "Does Lightman know?"

"He knows something is going on, but he doesn't know what it is. I can't... tell him. Not yet." It is cathartic to admit this even if she gave nothing away. Cathartic and safe. Eli is a subordinate. She can confide or withhold whatever she wants. The moment she instructs him to let her be, he has to accept it.

"And what is going on?" he asks. Well, the moment to order Eli Loker to back off has come sooner than she expected.

Loker watches how the sparkle in her eyes fades and the sadness takes over again. She wants to open up to him, but for some reason she can't. For once, he isn't annoyed at the fact that one of his superiors is keeping information from him. Instead, her sadness, her unusual behavior and her exhausted looks seem to add up to only one possible conclusion.

"You are not sick, aren't you?" he almost blurts the question out. Eli knows or at least assumes that there is no significant other in Gillian Foster's life currently, and since she and Lightman are hardly communicating with each other, he wonders who takes care of her.

"No, I'm not, Eli," she assures him. "But thank you for being worried about me."

Even if he shirks from her look, she catches his slight embarrassment. Yes, Eli Loker cares about her. More than he shows usually.

"Don't let Lightman know," he mumbles. "He would kill me. Well, he probably will kill me, anyway, for sitting here with you alone."

He seems to like the thought, though, smirking his boyish smile, and Gillian smiles briefly, too, before she gets serious again. In fact, the Cal of the good old days probably would have wanted to kill Eli for sitting here with her. The new Cal most likely wouldn't even notice her if he came in because he would be otherwise engaged – preferably in making out with another woman.

Loker observes the conflicting feelings that are reflected in her facial expressions. He is glad that she isn't seriously ill, and he accepts that she doesn't want to, or can't, tell him anything else. Hell, most of the time he and Ria know only half of what is going on at The Lightman Group. It is something he doesn't like but has learned to be okay with the hard way. So... here they are. Gillian Foster is a beautiful woman, and he just had a horrible date. Why not make the best out of this weird evening?

"Let's have a drink then," he announces. "Since it may be my last if Lightman ever finds out about our...," Eli leans over and continues in a hushed voice, "..._date_."

This time, they both smile at once. Gillian appreciates that he doesn't assail her with more questions. Actually, it's comforting to have someone around she knows and trusts. And she trusts Eli as well as Ria. Loker underwent the punishment for his one misstep when he betrayed their client. Gillian is not sure whether he honestly regrets what he did because he was cocksure of himself back then. She is sure, though, that Eli would never deliberately do anything that could hurt or endanger Ria, Cal or her personally.

Moments like this make her realize how bad things are between her and Cal. There were times when she felt more at home at the office than at her house simply because Cal was there. These days, she almost feels as if she has no home anymore at all. The office is enemy turf, a mine field; every action has the potential to end up in a conflict. And her house is empty, filled with brooding thoughts and the laughter of children she will never have. She can't go on like this, Gillian understands with a dazzling clarity her thoughts were lacking recently because she is wrecked with tension. And _like this_ doesn't only imply the Doyle situation; it also implies the whole it-is-all-screwed-up-oh-so-badly Cal situation. Gillian has no idea how to handle it as yet, but she won't continue to be Cal's puppet – and that's exactly how she feels on some days – let alone the puppet of whoever is behind the threats against Cal. She is done with being passive, just reacting to the circumstances. It's time to take risks. Cal Lightman doesn't preserve the monopoly of being the one and only risk taker of The Lightman Group

Loker orders new drinks, and it is astonishing how easily they are able to talk. He tells her about his date, and she tells him whatever comes to her mind. In between, he mentions a friend with amazing computer skills. Since Gillian knows that Eli is quite good himself and could probably hack her computer without any effort, his friend must be an exceptional talent. Loker notices the almost imperceptible flicker in her eyes when he mentions his friend as if she considers asking him something. But the moment is gone before he can even be sure he saw what he assumed, and they continue their low-key conversation.

When they eventually decide to leave, it's much too late for a workday. Gillian feels better, anyway. The unexpected encounter cheered her up.

They walk out together, and the cold air of the night makes her shiver. Only now, she realizes how tired she is; she can barely keep her eyes open and stumbles slightly over a bump of the road metal when Eli accompanies her to her car. He steadies her gently, his arm around her waist, and for the split of a second, she almost wants to stay there, in the safety of his arms, well aware that she is craving for the safety of _anyone's_ arms right now. Then they reach her car, and she pushes herself away from him.

"Goodnight, Eli, and don't dare to call in sick tomorrow."

"I won't, boss."

They smile at each other like conspirators. This evening was an exception that most likely won't ever happen again.

Hidden in the shadows, Cal is sitting in his car, watching them. They don't notice him.

And neither Cal nor they notice the shadowy figure observing all of them.

* * *

**I re-watched some episodes of Season One recently and realized how much I liked the dynamic between Gillian and Eli back then.**

**That's why I decided to have a Gillian/Eli scene. Hope you liked it. It was the first time I wrote him. **

**Don't worry, there will be lots of Cal/Gillian in the next chapter when things get more strained between them...**

**Thank you for reading & reviewing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** First of all, a huge thank you to all of you who reviewed. For once, I didn't manage to get back to you personally, but I promise to catch up on that.

This chapter starts with a Cal/Ria scene because we had Gillian/Eli in the last chapter, and I thought this would be a good addition. The second (and much longer) part of the chapter is a Cal/Gillian scene. Things get a little tense in more than one meaning of the word. But read for yourself...

Rating for language and content. Blame Cal for both of it.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

"Torres!"

Ria stops dead in her tracks when she hears Cal Lightman bark her name. She hates that he can do that to her, that she reacts like a trained dog to his commands, but frankly she prefers his rudeness as opposed to being manipulated without her knowledge. Another skill Call Lightman masters perfectly.

"What?"

If he is rude, so is she, and he doesn't seem to mind, approaching her quickly until they are face to face. A battle of wills. The natural and the scientist. A competition that will never end because she will never be able to catch up with all the years of experience he has over her, and he will never admit that in spite of that some of her abilities are quite likely better than his already, at least equal.

"Foster," he says curtly. "There is something going on. Find out what it is."

"You're not serious," she responds defensively. He wants her to find out something about his partner? The woman who is forbidden territory for everybody except him.

"Is this a trap?" she adds when he doesn't show the slightest indication to give her an explanation. "Because you told me enough times to leave her alone when I could see something was going on. So, why don't you just ask her what is going on instead of sending me ahead? Oh, wait, or could it be that you and Foster are not talking anymore?" She stares at him defiantly.

Cal usually likes Ria's stubborn and tough way. Here and now, though, he is frustrated and annoyed and concerned and just wants to know what is going on. Since he watched Gillian almost fall asleep during the meeting yesterday and she simply shrugged it off, refusing to talk to him when he tried to hold her back, he is in a state of red alert. She has lost weight and is constantly tired out. Gillian was not only having a bad day. Something is profoundly wrong, and it scares the shit out of him that she won't let him in on what it is that is bothering her so much.

He followed her ex-husband once because he thought he was cheating on her. Back then, he and Gillian talked about the line they should accept. The line they should not cross. But that was back then when they used to talk to each other, and this is now, and they don't talk anymore. Times have changed, and Cal crossed the line. This time, he followed her.

Four bloody hours – that's how long Cal sat in his damned car and waited for Gillian to come out of the damned bar. And, oh, was he tempted to go in when he saw Loker enter the bar. And even more when Loker didn't come out for another three hours. But then Gillian would have seen him and would have known that he followed her, that he crossed the line. Cal is not stupid. He knows that he messed things up the way he treated Gillian when internal affairs investigated Detective Sharon Wallowski, and moreover, the way he treated her as his partner. As the responsible, reliable partner she is, she was justifiably concerned about their financial situation. Let alone that she is on a par with him in terms of their profession. He neither listened to her concerns regarding their finances, though, nor did he appreciate her opinion as a psychologist. Bottom line – he treated her badly and should have apologized; they should have moved the clocks back to the time when they were a good team. Instead, Cal continued to act like an incorrigible jerk because...

"No." Torres is still standing right in front of him. "I won't do it. Even if you instruct me to do it now, you will somehow use it against me later. Ask Loker."

Cal didn't sleep much, pondered all night, or what was left of it, on driving over to Gillian and confronting her. Following her had only confused him more. Had she met Loker on purpose, or had it been by accident? What was keeping her awake at night and spoiled her appetite? Then he remembered how she had pulled away her arm when he had tried to hold her back after the meeting and just knew that she wouldn't let him in, let alone talk to him. Therefore, Ria is his best chance.

"Find out what's going on. Go ahead! Go!" he hisses and sees Ria flinch from his barely suppressed anger. "Loker may know something," Cal adds before he turns around to walk away, leaving Ria Torres behind with a puzzled look on her face. _Damn! Loker is involved in this, too? She is in real trouble._

Or maybe not because Eli comes out of one of the labs at that precise moment. If she can grill him about Foster, perhaps she finds out what's going on in the blink of an eye.

Except...

"Hey, where are you going?" Ria asks when she sees Loker heading toward the exit, putting on his jacket.

He doesn't answer, though, and then Gillian Foster comes out of the same room. So, Lightman was right. There is definitely something weird going on that involves Loker and Foster. Torres takes a deep breath. If she can't grill Eli, there is no way around dealing with Gillian to find out what is going on. Coming back empty-handed is no option. Lightman will never accept that.

"Where is he going?" she addresses Foster, but apparently both of her superiors are in an extremely irritated mood today.

"Not now," Gillian responds harshly, crossing the hallway on her way to Cal's office.

"But...," Ria is dumbfounded. Has everyone aside from her gone insane?

"Not now," Gillian repeats even more harshly, walking straight into Cal's office.

When Torres watches the door close behind her, she realizes that Gillian Foster didn't even knock. This makes her smile against her will. Lightman hates that. Well, at least one silver lining on this otherwise strange day.

* * *

Cal almost jumps up startled when Gillian walks in and announces, "We have to talk."

On the other hand, he wouldn't be Cal Lightman if he didn't have the ability to adjust quickly to unexpected situations. So...

"Well, quite a surprise there, luv," he says sarcastically. "Since, you know, I thought we wouldn't talk anymore."

He leans back and waves his hand casually, pretending that he's in control of the situation, as usual. But...

"Yeah, yeah, Cal," Gillian sighs. "Spare me the details. I don't have time for this now."

Something is different. She still looks tired and exhausted, but there is a determination in her eyes that wasn't there yesterday or the day before. Something has changed that makes him want to find out even more what it is that she is hiding.

"Do you trust me?" She has approached his desk, leaning over and supporting herself against it. On any other day, Cal would have taken advantage of the situation and would have tried to get a better look at her cleavage. Today, all he sees is her expression.

_I'm about to lose her._ The thought is suddenly there out of the blue. Even if she just asked him whether he trusts her, there was nothing remotely kind or nice concerning the way she asked it. Let alone that she shouldn't have to ask in the first place. There are only a handful of people Cal Lightman trusts, and Gillian Foster is on top of the list. Always has been ever since he got to know her. Save that he probably isn't on top of her list anymore, and this is why she felt the need to ask.

"Of course, I trust you," he answers, aware that this is not the time for cracking a joke. This is serious. Thus, he lets her read his face, lets her see how much he trusts her, how much he needs her; everything she should know and knew once but doubts these days with good reason. There is a brief flicker of emotion in her eyes when she reads him. Then she straightens herself.

"Okay, then promise me something." She waits until he nods in response before she continues, "If anything out of the ordinary happens. If someone approaches you, contacts you, sends you a package, a mail, whatever, tell me before you do anything. Can you do that for me?"

A cold fear seizes hold of him. What exactly is she telling him? Or rather – what is it she is still withholding?

Gillian misreads his silence as rejection because this is what she has gotten used to. When was the last time he agreed to something she suggested? She can't even remember. This time, though, she can't afford to be rejected. His life is on the line.

"It's important, Cal," she insists tiredly. "Just for once, promise it. Please. I will never ask you to promise or do anything ever again."

As if her words aren't unsettling enough, he sees it all of a sudden. It's only the slightest flicker, but it is there no matter how hard she tries to suppress it. Usually he can't read her. There is only one exception – she can't hide her emotions entirely from him when he is in serious danger. Cal remembers how Gillian begged for his life when a lunatic held him hostage and threatened to shoot him. Back then, he saw in her eyes what he sees now – if only for the split of a second. Deadly fear. Gillian Foster is afraid. No, she is scared to death and desperately makes an effort to fake normalcy despite the constant emotional turmoil beneath her overtired, yet cool and composed, facade. No wonder she is exhausted and has lost weight.

The way he treated her lately, she has no reason to worry about him. It should be all the same to her. However and against her better judgement, she does worry about him. He is the one to take and hurt. She is the one to give and take care. And somehow, this feels like her farewell gift. As if she has given up hope that they will ever be able to sort things out but feels obliged to do him this last favor, anyway.

Cal was aware that he had screwed things up badly. He wasn't aware, though, that the next time Gillian and he would talk, would be their break up talk in a manner of speaking. He can't allow this to happen. Let alone that he still doesn't know why she is so terrified.

"Never mind," she mumbles, shaking her head, misreading his silence again as rejection.

When she turns around to walk out, Cal jumps up in a flash and blocks her way, grabbing her shoulders in the process to stop her, "Gill, don't go."

She tenses, and he realizes that they haven't touched in weeks except for yesterday when he grabbed her wrist. It's symbolic that yesterday as well as now his touch pursues the purpose to stop her from leaving. In the past, they used to touch each other all the time – occasional touches, affectionate hugs, walking side by side so closely that their two bodies formed a whole.

Cal pulls back his hands and when she looks away, he knows that Gillian saw the hurt in his face at the recognition that she feels uncomfortable because of his touch.

"Let me go." Her words sound so final that he shivers.

"Never." It's the only answer that seems to fit. And maybe not all is lost because she tears up. Gillian Foster is the emotional type, after all.

Since he doesn't let her out, she turns around and walks a few steps back into the room, creating a distance between them hereby.

"God, Cal," she says with her back to him. "What are we going to do?"

This sums it up quite good. What are they going to do?

"Well," he retorts, "to begin with, I promise to do what you asked me for so that you can tell me in return what the hell is going on."

Gillian tenses up even more, hunching her shoulders.

"What if I can't?" she then says and eventually turns around. "Why do you think I asked you if you trust me? If I could explain everything, I wouldn't have to ask for your trust."

"You don't have to ask for my trust, Gill." Cal steps closer. "You have it, always had it."

She sighs in response and takes a deep breath.

"Don't do that, Cal," she says, breaking the eye contact. "Being nice," she answers his unspoken question. "You always do that after you screwed up, hoping that minimum effort will lead to maximum success and that I will forgive you once again." When he darts another questioning look at her, she feels the anger boil up inside. "It's as if you keep me on a short leash." Her words are fierce. "Sometimes you loosen the reins but at the very moment when I think I'm free, you pull me back."

Cal knows that Gillian is not only an intelligent, caring woman. Beneath the surface, she is also a fighter. He just never expected her to fight against him.

"You want to be free?" To say that he is surprised is a major understatement. There is a difference between having a slight variance – well, maybe not only slight but still... – and this admission.

"I want..." Her anger hasn't subsided yet, but she remembers why she originally came to talk to him. Their dispute threatens to get out of control, as it is bound to happen sooner or later recently whenever they argue, and she wants to avoid that. "That's not important right now."

"That's not important?" It doesn't take an expert in voice analysis to hear the frustration and annoyance in his words. "Bloody hell, Gillian. Don't change the subject." He takes a step forward.

"No, it's not," she repeats. "The only thing that is important right now is that you keep your promise."

Cal takes another step forward. He hates the damn distance between them almost as much as the fact that he doesn't seem to be able to get through to her.

"I already made the promise. Your turn." Annoyance. Frustration. Concern. Not a good mix when it comes to Cal Lightman. He is unpredictable on a good day. In a situation like this, he is about to snap. Someone threatened Gillian. He is sure of that and stops short of pulling up the sleeves of her dress to check for bruises. The only thing he hasn't figured out as yet is his part in all this or why she is so worried about him. Perhaps one of the lunatics they deal with on a daily basis approached her. He will review their former cases later, but this will be like searching for the needle in a haystack without any further clues.

"Yes, you already promised, Cal. Just make sure you don't forget about it." If he needed proof that this is not about him trusting her but about her trusting him, then her words attest it.

"So, why is it, Gill," he leans over, his glance piercing," that you talk so much about me having to trust you when it's you who don't trust me anymore."

Her eyes are like fire – anger and unshed tears fighting a silent fight – and her exhaustion and tenseness are visible. Cal considers stopping it here, letting her go so that she can recover. Then again, that's simply not who he is.

"Truth or happiness...," he starts.

"...never both," she finishes what he once told her, looking at him thoughtfully. "You're right," she then confirms. "I don't trust you anymore as I used to do."

He takes one more step into her personal space, just standing there, hesitatingly brushing her hand with his fingers. She doesn't look at him, her shallow breathing a soft sound in the otherwise silent room.

"I screwed up," he finally says. "But there is no reason for you not to trust me anymore."

Gillian waits for some more, but he seems to be finished.

"So, this is it?" she snorts. "This is supposed to be your apology? Your plea to make me trust you again? Well, think again, Cal. You have to do better than that to convince me because this is exactly why I don't trust you anymore. Everything you do is the God-given truth no one is allowed to question – including me," she almost spits the last two words. "But everything I do has to be explained so that you maybe, _maybe_, demean yourself to believe me for a change. And you wonder why I doubt that you trust me or why I fear that you will do whatever pleases you no matter what you promised me minutes ago? So, how am I supposed to...?" she stops when she becomes aware that she almost spilled everything to him.

She is shaking with rage, their closeness suddenly too confining. But when Gillian tries to step back, she is stopped by his desk. She is trapped, and for the split of a second, panic threatens to overwhelm her. All she wants is to get away, to get out. Cal sees it and tries to calm her, reaching out for her. A well-meant gesture that completely backfires when she pushes her hands against his chest in an effort to keep her distance, and he is caught in the middle of the movement, pushing her back involuntarily in the process so that the pressure of his body shoves her onto his desk.

A box with pencils topples over, and Gillian's hands shove some papers away as she supports herself. Cal somehow manages to not press her down any further, shifting his weight backwards. This is how they end up – she half sitting, half lying on his desk, he standing right in front of her.

Despite the tense situation he can't bite back a smirk, "Now, if this is not one of my fantasies coming true."

"Not funny, Cal," she sits up, but the unexpected physical encounter let her anger vanish. There is no venom in her voice.

When she wants to stand up, he carefully steps closer and leans his forehead tenderly against hers. Since she doesn't radiate fury anymore, it seems to be safe to do it.

"Gill...," he mumbles, and somehow, it's so much easier to talk to her when he can feel her, smell her. "I behaved like a stupid ass lately." He feels her tense up and hopes that it is due to the anticipation what he is going to admit and not because being close to him makes her uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he whispers, but she hears the words loud and clear even if she almost can't believe it. Cal Lightman said that he is sorry. Considering that he rarely, if at all, offers his apologies, this is short of a miracle.

He feels the tension leave her body as if a heavy load has been lifted from her shoulders. Instead of a comment, she pulls him into an embrace. After her uncomfortable first reaction when he tried to stop her from leaving, he didn't dare to touch her again with his hands. Now, he hesitatingly raises them to embrace her, too. He didn't take their positions into account, though, the fact that he is effectively standing between her legs and that the hem of her dress was pushed up when she landed rather roughly onto the desk. Therefore, what was planned as an innocent gesture ends up in a daring move – his hand on her thigh, touching bare skin.

They both freeze.

Cal knows how the soft skin of her hand feels, the skin of her neck or her cheek, but every other part of her body he has only touched until now in one of his countless and very vivid fantasies. He hears her take a deep shaky breath, and his first instinct is to remove his hand, to accept the line. Yet, there is no indication that she doesn't want this even if Gillian for sure is as staggered as he is by the turn the events have taken. So, his hand lingers on her thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin.

_Bad idea,_ he realizes too late because his imagination goes wild. The hem of her dress was pushed up fairly high; her skin is warm and soft, and this feels so good, too good. He will have to step back. Otherwise, she will notice soon how much he enjoys this.

It makes him dizzy how fast they went from arguing to this.

"I think I'm crossing the line," Cal mutters in her ear. Gillian's arms are still around his neck, holding him in a tender embrace or whatever they are doing just now. Let alone what they may be about to do next.

"Yes, I think you do," he hears her whispered response as she pulls him even closer. Cal also hears the uncertainty in her voice, and he can't blame her. He has been wanting this, _her_, for such a long time that doing nothing about it, except their usual banter and teasing here and there, has become his standard repertoire. A woman like Gillian Foster is simply not interested in a man like Cal Lightman. Well, not as a man that is. Friends and business partner, yes, but not more than that. That was what he believed and what she is about to prove wrong. Besides, he doesn't want to pull her into his dark world, doesn't want to destroy her perfection with his rough edges. Then again, they probably would be a very interesting mix.

"Think I can distract you enough so that you spill all your secrets to me?" he teases and hears her laugh hoarsely, a foretaste of what she probably will sound like if they take this to the next level.

"I think we should settle for the trust agreement," she then says and adds after a brief pause. "At least for now." Gillian wants to open up to him, he can tell, but she can't do it at the moment, and Cal has decided to accept it for the time being. Not that he has a choice.

He leans back so that he can look at her. There are so many emotions trapped inside of him. Just a few moments ago he thought this was it, that she would walk out on him, and now, they are so close that neither of them seems to know anymore where the bloody line is or was or should be.

Cal's hand caresses her jaw, and of its own accord, his thumb brushes her lips. He never wanted to kiss her that badly and if he interprets her facial expression correctly, she feels just the same. It is sheer need he sees. Gillian opens her mouth, licks her lips and swallows. Most likely, she does none of this on purpose but rather instinctively, preparing for what they both know will happen. Anyway, watching this, Cal wants to push her back onto the desk and rip off her clothes even more.

In retrospect, it could have saved them so much trouble if he hadn't said the next words. She would have stayed. She wouldn't have... Well, the world isn't made of what ifs. People make decisions and have to live with the consequences.

In this moment, though, with one hand on her thigh and the other on her lips, Cal doesn't think straight. All he sees are her dilated pupils and her mouth, and he can't help but remember how furious he was when he saw Loker touch her when they came out of the bar.

"I would have killed Loker if he kissed you," he mumbles. Only when the words are out already, he freezes, realizing what he just did.

Despite her arousal and the precarious situation, it takes Gillian only the split of a second to register that he is talking about last night.

"You followed me?" She doesn't have to push him back this time. Cal steps back voluntarily when he sees the disappointment and rage in her face. "I don't believe it. I..." Gillian stands up and smoothes down her dress. Cal's hand that was on her thigh seconds ago burns like fire. Now, that he knows how it feels to touch her, to _really_ touch her, he can't imagine not being able to do this any longer.

"I was worried about you. You don't eat; you don't sleep; you don't talk to me. What was I supposed to do?" he futilely tries to calm the waves.

She reaches out and touches his chest, neither pushing him back nor pulling him toward her, just seems to need the contact. Like him, she probably has a hard time dealing with the fact that they went from zero to hundred and back in a couple of minutes. That's a first time even for them.

"Trust. Cal," she says, and the sadness in her eyes makes his heart ache. "This is how you trust me?"

_This has nothing to do with trust_, he wants to tell her. _I just couldn't stand around, doing nothing. _But he is aware that this is a lame excuse. Cal Lightman once more believed to be the only one who knew what was best for her, ignoring her wishes and her privacy in the process.

So, here they are again. Right back where they started. How many times will this endless cycle work? How many times can he screw up and make her forgive him?

"When did you intend to tell me? Before or after..." _...you slept with me_, she doesn't have to finish the question he knows what she means.

The fact that _it_ almost happened makes his betrayal so much worse. Cal is eloquent and quick-witted when he has an affair. With Gillian, on the other hand, he rarely seems to find the right words. At least recently. Therefore, he remains silent, afraid to push her away even farther.

This time, he doesn't block her way when she heads out.

"Gill... Gillian..."

Her name on his lips is the last desperate effort to hold her back. The sweet scent of her perfume lingers in his office even after she is gone.

If Cal had known what happened next, he would have run after her immediately. As it is, he simply picks up the pencils and documents from the floor, rearranging his desk until everything is in best order. Just a normal day like any other.

* * *

**Next chapter: There will be finally some action because (remember?) there is a plot with a mobster that has to move on. But you probably already guessed that from the cliffy. I hope the rather long chapter makes up for the fact that due to work I won't be able to update until next weekend. As always, every review is highly appreciated because otherwise I'll never know whether you liked this chapter or not.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This is where the action starts and the plot thickens – so to speak. The POV in this chapter switches between Cal and Gillian, and I hope it comes across as fast-paced as it's meant and not confusing.

As always, a huge thank you to all of you who reviewed. Since I couldn't get back to guest reviewers personally, this includes you Kam, icoffeemate1 and whoever just reviewed as "guest". It's interesting and very motivating to read your thoughts, and I love, love, love that the Lie To Me / Callian fandom still exists (I probably say this too often / all the time, but it's true).

And here we go... enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Actually, I'm afraid they won't ever be.

* * *

Gillian grabs her purse and her phone. After her fight with Cal, she needs some air, her office suddenly too claustrophobic. In the elevator, on the way down to the lobby, she tries to calm herself down. It's all so surreal. Their argument. Their sudden closeness. The overwhelming urge to throw caution to the wind and give in to her feelings and kiss him, do whatever this kiss would have led to. And then his slip, the admission that he followed her. Talk about killing the mood.

_Oh, Cal, _she thinks, knowing she should ponder on so many other things, but somehow her thoughts are stuck. She can't think any further than his name, isn't even mad at him anymore, because everything that happened was just so... _Cal_. Gillian knows that he didn't follow her out of spite but because he was worried about her, knows that he trusts her. After all, she never gave him a reason not to. Well, at least not one that he is aware of as yet. Save that it doesn't feel as if he trusts her. She has to be able to make her own decisions without having to fear that he sneaks around behind her back doing whatever he considers necessary based on his conviction that he is the only one who knows what's good for her. Trust works both ways. Trust means they are at eye level. Cal created too often the impression lately, though, that he was looking down at her. _It's cat and mouse, Gill. Not cats and mouse._ She snorts when she remembers that. Cal for sure knows how to ride the high horse. Despite the unfulfilled craving of her body, it's probably best that she didn't sleep with him. There are too many unresolved issues, and sex would have solved none of them – as wonderful as it most likely would have been... She can't help but smile. Yes, somehow, she knows it would have been great.

Her inner ramblings stop when the elevator reaches the lobby that is crowded with people. It's almost noon, and many employees are heading out to have a break. Gillian pushes her way through the crowd, glancing at the TV that is wall-hung behind the front desk in passing. _Breaking news._ The red letters flash across the screen. Police cars in front of a mansion. Paramedics carrying a gurney with a body on it. Obviously, somebody died. One of the many sad stories life has to tell but nothing unusual so far. Gillian is about to look away and walk out when she reads the name that is shown on the screen. This makes her stop in the middle of the movement. Only now, she recognizes the mansion in the background. It was years ago, but she was there once, attended an official reception together with her husband. It is the property of her former superior. The man who was probably involved in the cover-up of killing Doyle's family by mistake back then. Or perhaps not only in the cover-up but in the killing itself. Who can tell. It was the Pentagon after all. Secrets were their daily business.

_Henry Andrews... killed... last night..._ _murder... _Gillian is rooted to the spot, people bumping into her accidentally. Her throat is suddenly dry, and her heart starts to race. There is no mention of a suspect, but she has no doubt what happened. This has to be Jimmy Doyle's work. The mobster is taking revenge.

What she has been dreading for weeks has finally started.

* * *

Cal stares at his closed office door. He tries to tell himself that he needs to give her space, but it kills him to sit around and do nothing while she probably is freaking out because of what happened between them. Or rather because of what almost happened and then didn't happen. Whatever. Not that Gillian Foster will freak out visibly, anyway. She will do it in her typical unobtrusive way, dealing with it herself.

"Bloody hell," he curses, jumping up. Patience is not exactly his strong point. He can't wait any longer. Perhaps she is still in her office and has calmed down enough to talk to him. He nearly had his hand in her panties only minutes ago. Therefore, he should be allowed to simply look after her, shouldn't he? Cal is briefly distracted when his thoughts provide him with vivid memories of their encounter, and he tries to remember whether he really had his hand that high on her thigh that he actually was able to feel her silky lingerie or whether this is his imagination playing tricks on him. Now, where was he? Right! Looking for Gillian.

The hallway is empty when he makes his way toward her office. No Gillian. He checks the other rooms. No Gillian either. She must have gone out to get some air. He pushes the button of the elevator. _Come on, come on..._ He always complains how slow this damn thing is. It is a modern high-tech building with an elevator from Stone Age.

There is too much energy trapped in his body. Therefore, Cal decides to take the stairs. When he opens the door to the stairwell, he doesn't notice the man hiding in the corner. Only when he says his name, he freezes in his tracks. Cal knows this voice, listened to it hour after hour during surveillance when he was working at the Pentagon.

The mobster. Jimmy Doyle.

* * *

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Gillian mumbles, listening to the dialing tone.

This morning, she was so sure that it was the right thing to do. This was the new Gillian. The woman who wouldn't allow anybody to push her around anymore, who was willing to take risks. But Andrews is dead, and more dead are way beyond any risk she is willing to take.

This morning... Considered what happened in between, it feels like days ago. She remembers how she approached Eli with a request while he was analyzing some voice files.

"_Hey," she greeted him casually. When he looked up, there was a brief moment of awkward tension until a smile crossed his face. _

"_Hangover?" he asked, and in the blink of an eye, they fell back into their roles as conspirators. As if they had skipped school and hoped not to get caught._

"_No," Gillian smiled back and shook her head. Only now, he noticed that she was holding a CD in her hands, fiddling nervously around with it._

"_Your friend," she said hesitatingly. "Is he really as good as you told me?"_

_His hacker friend. So, he had gotten her micro expression right the previous evening. She had filed the information away to think about it. And apparently, she had come to a decision. _

"_Yes," Loker slowly responded. "He is the best there is."_

"_So... do you think he can find out hidden information on a CD, information that is usually not visible, such as which PC was used to burn it?"_

_She looked straight into his eyes, well aware what she was asking him. Wow! Who would have thought that Gillian Foster had this secret side? That she was able to think like a criminal? Here she was, wanting to use the illegal services of his friend. _

"_As I said. He is the best there is. If there is anything to find, he will find it," Eli answered, really curious now what this was about. "Do you get blackmailed?" he asked, half joking, but his smile faded when he saw her facial expression. Fear. _

"_In a way," she admitted. "And if there is anything I can find out about who is behind this, then I want to know it." _

_Beforehand, Gillian had thought about what she wanted to, or rather could, tell Eli and what not. It was a huge risk to give him the disk. On the other hand, if she wanted to find out anything, it was the only way. _

_Gillian Foster isn't the risk taker though. Cal Lightman is. She knew that her request had the potential to endanger Loker. If something happens to him, she will never be able to forgive herself. Therefore, she wanted to see him how risky it was so that he could make a conscious choice. There was not much she could tell him, but she could let him read her face, let him see the potential danger._

"_Look... Eli...," she started, stepping closer to him and touching his arm. "I wouldn't ask you if I knew another alternative, but I don't know what else to do. This could be dangerous, and I don't want you to do something out of a sense of duty or loyalty you don't want to do. I'm asking you as a friend not as your superior. You don't have to do this. Say no, and I walk out, and we forget this conversation ever happened."_

_For a brief moment, he considered that she was manipulating him because it was the perfect approach. A little conspiracy, a charming smile, let alone her closeness, her touch, the smell of her perfume. Gillian Foster is an attractive woman and even if she doesn't exploit it, she knows it and is willing to use it if necessary. When he looked into her eyes, though, he realized that she would never do it in a situation like this. _Clean like you_, Cal insulted her during the Wallowski case, but it's true. Deep down, Gillian Foster is not able to do any harm; she only fights back when she is cornered. _

"_I'll do it," Eli stretched out his hand to take the CD. Their fingers touched when she handed it over to him and watched him read the label through the transparent cover._

"_Whatever you may hear on this CD has to remain our secret," she insisted, almost doubting her actions already. Perhaps Eli wouldn't listen to it, but she knew him. He was curious. Most likely he wouldn't be able to resist, and she simply didn't want anybody to listen to one of Cal's therapy sessions. It's personal. Just her and Cal. Then again, she had to tell herself that there was no other way. If she could prove that Andrews made the recording, there was the slightest possibility that she could approach him and stop all this. Assure him that Cal knew nothing and that she would never tell him. End the insanity. Maybe even persuade him into protecting her and Cal against Doyle. She needed proof though. Otherwise, Andrews would deny everything. She knew him that much._

"_It's always a pleasure to share a secret with you, Gillian" Eli said, winking at her._

_She told him to go and meet his friend immediately. Then she walked over to Cal, barely noticing Ria who wanted to ask her something, and things went downhill from there._

Gillian is pulled back to here and now when somebody eventually answers the phone.

"Loker."

"Oh my God," she is so relieved that he is doing well.

"Gillian?" He knows her voice, of course, but he almost didn't recognize it. She seems to be extremely strung up.

"Are you already... with your friend?" she asks.

"Traffic was insane," he starts to explain. "I've just arrived and..."

"Come back," she interrupts him. "To the office. Come back immediately. Don't stop anywhere. Don't tell anyone that you have the CD. Just come back here. Now. Do you hear me?"

"Alright, alright," he agrees, not knowing what is going on, but since her obvious distress allows no further questions, he will grill her about it later. There is only one thing. "Gillian, are you okay?" Eli sounds worried, and she can't blame him for it. She must sound like a mad woman.

"Yes, I'm okay. Just come back." With this, she hangs up.

She doesn't know whether Eli or his friend are actually at risk, but ordering him to come back seemed like the right thing to do. _Well, just as it seemed like the right thing to do when you ordered him to go there this morning,_ she thinks bitterly, but she can't undo it. There is no use in checking the disk. If Andrews was behind it, as she assumes, then it doesn't matter anymore. He is dead. Most likely killed by Doyle or his men, and she can't take the chance that Doyle tracks down Eli because he is running around with a CD that may or may not contain sensitive information. She has to come up with a plan B.

* * *

Cal turns around slowly, expecting to be shot, stabbed or at least threatened, but when he faces Jimmy Doyle, nothing happens. The man is just standing there, studying him.

"I need your help," Doyle says.

Well, it doesn't happen every day that a wanted mobster seeks his aid. Even for Cal Lightman, this is a first.

"How?" Cal asks. No need to beat around the bush.

"I want to find out who killed my wife and my daughter."

Cal always doubted the official version that a robbery had gone wrong. Then again, this is a mobster asking for his help. Not necessarily a trustworthy person. This is definitely very out of the ordinary. Wait... There was something Gill said to him. _If anything out of the ordinary happens... _Suddenly, breathing is a lot more difficult. Gillian _knew_ that something like this would happen. But what exactly did she expect to happen? And why did she know about it in the first place? Cal's thoughts are racing. He wants to find her even more but has to deal with Doyle before.

"Did you by any chance approach my colleague some weeks ago? Dr. Foster?" Somehow, Cal doesn't really believe it. Yet, he has to know. If this man is responsible for Gillian's state of distress... He visualizes her tired face, her thin figure, and clenches his fists, but he relaxes again when he reads the answer in his micro expression even before Doyle says it.

"No." Surprise. The mobster doesn't know what Cal is talking about.

So, now that this is cleared, Cal has a vague idea what he wants to do next. Still, there are some more questions he has to ask first.

"Why now?" After all, almost eight years have passed since then.

"Grief takes time." Doyle is completely honest. Cal can see it in his face. The man griefs deeply over the loss of his family to this day.

"Why do you think I can help you?" The even better question is why Doyle didn't already kill him, but he wants to let sleeping dogs lie. No need to give the mobster the idea.

"Because I know you asked too many questions back then. Because you have contacts that could be helpful. Legal as well as illegal. Because you're a man looking for the truth." Jimmy Doyle gestures toward the office. Reading micro expressions.

Yes, in a way Cal is always looking for the truth. This is why he isn't dead as yet. Doyle knows that he doubted the official version, supposed is was only a cover-up for the truth. _Truth or happiness, never both... Cal_ was so unhappy when he was forced to take the therapy sessions. But his psychologist, Dr. Gillian Foster, managed to convince him that there was nothing to be unhappy about. Save that unfortunately there is a lot to be unhappy about, starting with the fact that he actually might have been right, that Doyle's family fell victim to an attempt on Doyle's life.

"You could have made an appointment," Cal says sarcastically, suddenly wondering why the man waited in the stairwell for him. They hardly ever use the stairs.

"Steel doors," Doyle admits with a grim face. "Thought I could crack them."

So, he didn't intend to wait in the stairwell for Cal. It was one of life's murky secrets that Cal chose this very moment to use the stairs instead of the elevator. Jimmy Doyle couldn't know that one special feature of their high-tech office suite is that there is no way in. Steel doors. Bulletproof glass. They are prepared for the worst, and evil is only allowed in here at their invitation.

Cal can't tell whether Jimmy Doyle is evil. He is a man with blood on his hands in any case. However, the grief over the loss of his family makes the mobster more human, and basically, it's this loss and his guilt that make Cal invite him in. Cal is not naïve, though, leading him directly to their interrogation cube that can be locked from the outside. He can't let Doyle walk around freely while he is looking for Gillian.

"What is this?" Doyle asks as they approach the cube.

Cal scrutinizes him casually, seeing curiosity as well as suspicion in his face. This won't be easy.

"Just a room where we read micro expressions," Cal tries to play it down.

Doyle nods, but Cal notices the change in his body language. Suspicion is taking over. Doyle won't let himself get trapped without resistance. When they reach the entrance of the cube, Doyle turns around to face Cal. _Damn_, Cal thinks. He doesn't need to be an expert in reading micro expressions to know that the look in Doyle's eyes means that he is about to be beaten up any moment.

* * *

Gillian is standing indecisively right in front of the huge glass doors in the lobby, staring outside. It's a wonderful day. The sun is shining, and people around her are laughing and chatting. She almost wonders why no one points at her, accusing her of being the only one with a dark secret. The black sheep in a flock of happy people. Her weird day has become even more weirder and actually threatening. She walks out to take a deep breath and compose her thoughts. These are not only verbal threats anymore. There is a body. Henry Andrews was murdered shortly after she had been intimidated. This can't be merely a coincidence. So, who will be next? The thought makes her shiver, realizing that the rules have changed. Handling murder is out of her league. She has to tell Cal everything and somehow make sure that he doesn't overreact. One step at a time. Together they will figure out how to deal with the situation.

She feels better now that she made the decision to tell him. In a way they will be even. He followed her; she kept a secret from him. They both meant well for the other. They both have to forgive the other to move on. Maybe they can use this mess to clear the air and make a fresh start.

Gillian is about to turn around and walk back into the building when everything happens at once. There is a loud noise, and she is pushed to the ground. The abrupt fall takes her breath away. She coughs, and tries to get up again, stumbling, a faint ringing in her ears. Why is her vision so blurry? Her legs are shaky and when she touches her face to wipe away whatever impairs her vision, she sees the blood on her hands. She is bleeding. And there is obviously not only a gash on her forehead so that blood trickles down her face; she also notices some nasty cuts on her hands and arms, the torn sleeves of her dress being the least of her problems. Slowly, her hearing comes back, and only now, she discerns her surroundings. People are screaming and running around panic-stricken. Splinters of glass are everywhere; the huge glass doors shattered into a thousand pieces. The worst is, though, that there are some people just lying on the ground, not moving. An explosion. Most likely in the lobby. The shock wave must have destroyed everything inside and caused the glass doors to splinter, turning shards of glass into deadly weapons. Oh my God. She was in there just seconds ago. Gillian swallows, trembling in every limb. She may be injured, but in a twisted way she is one of the lucky ones. If she hadn't walked out, she probably would be dead by now.

Cal. She looks up at the floor of their office suite. It seems to be undamaged. At least he is safe. She feels for her phone to let him know that she is okay, but apparently she lost it into chaos as well as her purse. There is no way she can reach him.

He will go bonkers.

* * *

It sounds like a deep growl, as if the building is angry. The room is sound-protected and has no windows to reduce distractions to a minimum while they are analyzing voices and micro expressions. Something definitely happened outside; that much they can tell. Doyle and Cal are both surprised, but only Cal uses the moment to his advantage and shoves Doyle in the cube, locking the door behind him.

"Hey," Doyle yells, throwing himself at the glass, hammering against it with his fists. Steel doors and bulletproof glass. Again. Gillian and he discussed a lot about the great costs they had for turning the office suite into a high-security wing. Today is the day it pays off.

"Sorry, I will get back to you. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable," Cal says into the mike, ignoring Doyle's curses that are directed at him. Then he pushes a button, and the glass gets opaque. No need to let anyone else know or see who's in the cube.

Something happened outside... And Gill is outside...

He runs into the hallway. There is an uproar. The staff is discussing whether to leave the building as soon as possible or rather stay inside. He overhears single words. There was an explosion, either right in front of the building or in the lobby, and there are at least injured persons. Maybe it's even worse. The thought of Gillian being injured or _even worse_ makes Cal's stomach turn. He has to find her.

Ria approaches him, and he grabs her arm and pulls her aside. "No one gets in there except you." He gestures toward the room with the cube. "No one. You understand?" She nods. Torres has learned not to ask any questions in a situation like this. Not when Cal is like this.

"Where is Foster?" she asks. "I couldn't find her. Loker isn't here either, but he left a while ago. So, I hope he wasn't... down there when it happened." Ria looks at him worried.

"You stay here. I'm going to look for Foster," Cal answers tersely, and she understands. Gillian Foster is not here, and she didn't leave long ago. Meaning... Torres forbids herself to think about it. Lightman will find her, and Loker is also okay. Everything will be fine.

"Call Emily. Tell her I'm in one piece and then... lockdown. No one gets in; no one gets out." Cal is already on his way out, talking to Torres across his shoulder. Emily is overseas in Europe on vacation. He doesn't want her to worry about him in case there's TV coverage about what just happened. And the lockdown is their emergency plan for situations like this. Usually it's safer to stay inside. Therefore, the staff will stay here as long as the building isn't evacuated by the security guards.

There are too many people in the stairwell hindering Cal to run down as quickly as he wants to. He nearly pushes some of them out of the way and gets some nasty comments in return, but he doesn't even notice it. What he notices are the sirens in the distance and the thick smoke when he eventually reaches the lobby or rather what is left of it. How is he supposed to find Gillian in this chaos?

Cal crosses the lobby and walks outside, careful not to step on a body. When he ran down here, he was worried Gillian could be injured. Right now, he prays she's still alive.

And then, suddenly, she's there. Right in front of him, staring at him as if she doesn't believe he is real.

"Cal...," she reaches out for him, tearing up.

The blood. All he sees is the blood. On her face. On her hands.

"Are you hurt, luv?" It's a silly question. She's obviously hurt, but he needs to know if there's more, if she has internal injuries that are probably much more dangerous.

"I think I'm okay," she whispers.

He takes her in his arms, and she whimpers quietly. Only now, he notices that there are tiny splinters of glass all over her. He can feel them in her hair and on her clothes when he touches her. It has to hurt, and he backs off, but she pulls him close again.

"Don't..." He can barely hear her voice, but she holds on to his body tightly. "I'm okay. Now that you're here."

Gillian doesn't seem to perceive the pain the tiny splinters must cause her or is willing to ignore it as long as she can be close to him. Cal refuses to give the symbolism some thought. She is the psychologist of them.

"We have to get you to a hospital," he mumbles into her hair, but for now he is content with standing here a little longer, holding her.

There is so much chaos around them that they don't notice the approaching van until the car stops right behind Gillian and the slide door opens. A man wearing a mask jumps out and grabs Gillian around the waist, pulling her inside. Gillian sees Cal's face change from surprise to fear to anger in the split of a second before he throws himself at her attacker. It is futile though. Another masked face appears. Cal doesn't even see the taser but he feels it all the more when it lets him crash on the ground.

"Cal...," her scream is ear-piercing but goes unnoticed in general mayhem.

He tries to remain conscious, but he is tased a second time and a third when he tries to get up and get to her. Nevertheless, the last thing he thinks before he loses consciousness is what he lucky man he is. At least they didn't leave him behind. His attack brought him a place right beside Gillian on the floor of the van that drives away with full speed.

* * *

**A/N: **The next chapter(s) will get a little rough for Cal & Gillian. They have to deal with a conspiracy and a mobster after all. Originally, I planned to have the next angst-ridden/creepy chapter up in time for Halloween, but sometimes reality differs from theory. I will still try to manage it somehow, but it most likely will take another week until there's more. In the meantime, let me know what you thought about this chapter and how much angst you're prepared to take. (In case you're worried now: Be assured that there will be enough time to sort out the emotional stuff, but all in its proper time). Thank you so much for reading & reviewing.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Things get a little uncomfortable for our Callian pairing. It won't take too long, but be prepared that this chapter and the next will be angst-ridden.

One thing I learned about myself when I was writing this chapter: Even if I love to write creepy stuff, I don't like to write it when Gillian Foster is involved. Don't ask me why. Perhaps I adapted Cal's attitude that she is kind of a pure soul and should not be harmed. Anyway, she's in the middle of this and therefore... but read for yourself. Rating due to content and language.

As always, thanks a lot for your reviews & alerts.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

* * *

Dust. Dust and blood. That's what Cal tastes in his mouth when he wakes up with a start. He is dizzy, and his body is hurting all over. _The taser_, he remembers, realizing that he is lying on a roughcast stone floor. It's cold and damp. A basement maybe. He has no time, though, to take a better look because two pairs of hands grab him from behind, pulling him up violently, half pushing, half dragging him out of the room.

It is a basement. There is a long, dim hallway with several doors. Some are open, some are closed, and the end of the hallway is completely hidden in the dark so that Cal can't tell how big the basement actually is.

The men push him into one of the other rooms. It's even colder in here, but Cal's shiver is not caused by the temperature. It is caused by the sight of Gillian sitting on a chair, hands tied behind her back, a man standing beside her who doesn't exactly look as if he is well-disposed toward them. Considering the temperature in the room, Gillian must freeze bitterly, wearing just her thin, torn dress, but she doesn't let it show, her face a mask of composure. She is desperately trying to pull herself together even if Cal saw the relief on her face when he came in. Apparently, they kept her in the dark about whether he was alive or dead. The thought makes him cringe. He doesn't dare to imagine how he would have felt if it had been vice versa.

The man standing beside Gillian isn't the leader though. There is another man standing in the middle of the room. His upright carriage and confident facial expression tell Cal that this is the leader. He wears a suit and a smug smile.

"Cal Lightman," he greets him with a completely inappropriate and fake politeness. "Excuse the circumstances."

The two pairs of hands release Cal's arms and shoulders. Then he hears retreating steps, and the door closes behind him. Gillian and he are alone in the room with the two men. At least that's what he assumes until he hears someone groan with pain. He looks over his shoulder and sees Loker lying in a corner. He is definitely not in good shape and barely conscious. There is blood all over him. Cal doesn't know how long he was unconscious or how long the men had time to pester Eli, but Loker looks as if he didn't tell them what they wanted to know. Yet. Or maybe he told them, and this is why they stopped.

He catches Gillian's gaze and is surprised at what he sees. Guilt and shame. Why would she feel guilty or ashamed because someone else hurt Loker? Right now, Cal has no time to think about it, though, because the man in the suit addresses him again.

"We had an unpleasant disagreement with your staff member," he explains Loker's condition, and out of the corner of his eye, Cal sees Gillian flinch from the cynicism.

"Yeah, yeah, don't bother, just call us a cab," Cal replies, deferring to the cynical game the man is playing.

"I'll gladly do that," the man lies, "but first we have to talk a bit."

They are wearing no masks. They did when they kidnapped them to make sure they couldn't be identified in case somebody detected them despite the chaos. The fact that they don't consider hiding their faces a necessity anymore leaves only one logical conclusion. They don't intend to let them go. Cal looks only briefly at Gillian. He doesn't want to give away how close they are. Not here. Not in a situation like this. He can't help, though, to make eye contact, and the brief look is sufficient. She has come to the same conclusion and is dead scared.

"Talk about what?" Cal asks. Might as well play along.

The man starts pacing back and forth although there is no impatience in his voice or body language. He seems to have all the time in the world. _A sociopath_, Cal realizes shocked. As if the situation isn't bad enough already. This time, he doesn't steal a glance at Gillian, well aware that she must have made the same observation in the meantime. God, she was alone in the room with these two maniacs, most likely had to watch how Loker was beaten up. Cal has to restrain himself from boiling over with anger.

"The point is," the man eventually starts his answer, and suddenly, Cal isn't certain anymore that he actually wants to hear it. "We need to be told what you know about certain events and who else you maybe let in on it so that we can prevent further damage." The way he says it sounds as if he is one of the good guys who has to make sure that the rest of the world makes no mess.

Cal doesn't understand what the cryptic words mean. _Certain events... Further damage... _What is he supposed to know? And who else?

"Know about what?" Cal asks. As little as he wants to know, he has no choice if he wants to get to the bottom of it, noticing that Gillian's facial expression is getting even more tense. What the hell is going on here?

The man spreads his arms in an innocent gesture as if to say that he would tell him if he could. "That's what we need to hear from you." He pauses briefly and then continues, "We could just ask your colleague, Dr. Foster, of course, and let you as the expert in reading micro expressions tell us whether she is speaking the truth. Or vice versa. Then again, you're not exactly unbiased when it comes to the other, aren't you? Neither of you would admit it and tell us if the other lied."

So much for Cal's plan to hide how close he and Gillian are. The sociopath already knows.

"Or we could beat one or both of you, torture you," the man adds unaffected as if he is talking about the weather.

Only now, Cal notices that the man who is standing beside Gillian is holding the taser in one of his hands. He looks at Cal, an ugly smile distorting his face. His free hand rests on Gillian's shoulder and while watching Cal and his reaction, he shifts it to her neck first and then down toward her cleavage, slipping two fingers under the thin fabric of her dress. Gillian breathes fitfully, trying not to move. His hand is still too high to touch her bra or her breasts, but Cal hears the message loud and clear. _I can touch her whenever and wherever I want to, and you can do nothing about it._ Until now, discussions whether he would be able to kill someone given the circumstances were rather philosophical, but this is not a politically correct theory. This is the bloody reality, and all Cal wants to do is to rip the throat of this bugger out.

Just when Cal hopes that this was the worst, the man bends over and pulls at the hem of Gillian's dress, exposing the delicate skin of her thigh in the process, pressing the taser against it. He stares at Cal provocatively, his finger hovering right above the trigger, ready to send the fire of an electric shot through her body. Cal sees how Gillian holds her breath. _Don't_, is all he can think. _Don't do it. Please don't do it. Please... _He is unable to speak, unable to move because every word or gesture may provoke one of the man enough to pull it through.

"As I said," the man in the suit suddenly speaks again although Cal barely hears him, his angry pulse in his ears and the pleading words in his mind too loud. "We could conventionally torture you, but these things take time. Time we don't have. Hence, there are more effective procedures and since we know that you have a soft spot for your lovely colleague, we will take advantage of this."

He looks at the other man and orders him with a gesture to put the taser away. The man obeys rather unhappily, caressing Gillian's thigh with the taser in a sick way before he eventually pulls it away, and both, Gillian and Cal, are able to breathe again.

_More effective procedures... _This is getting worse by the minute. What is next?

_Think_, Cal urges himself on. This must have something to do with Doyle and Gillian acting bizarrely lately. These men don't seem to work with Doyle though. They are not IRA. Instead, the man in the suit appears to be a twisted version of a state official. Leaving the question what Gillian knew in advance? Did she expect Doyle to approach them? Or these men? Or both? And how did she come to know it in the first place?

This is a shitty situation already. So, he may as well ask her himself. They have nothing to lose. Except for their lives.

"Did you know something like this would happen?" Cal addresses Gillian directly. "Is that the reason why you behaved so out of character recently?

"Cal... I...," she pleads. This is no explanation. This is her begging for forgiveness. And it's a bleeding yes as an answer. She knew something. Whatever it is and for whatever reason she still is withholding the details. Cal's concern for her slowly but surely starts to mix with another feeling. Anger. She knew, and yet, she decided not to tell him. "I'm sorry," she whispers finally, tearing up when she sees the rage on his face.

Cal freezes, his anger suddenly irrelevant. She is the voice expert, but this definitely sounded like a goodbye. Somehow, she seems to know that this isn't going to end well and is trying to prepare herself. What did they tell her while he was lying unconsciously in the other room?

"Gill...," he begins but is interrupted by the man in the suit.

"This is how it goes," the man says. He stopped pacing and is standing completely still now, facing Cal. "You tell us what you know and what you told anyone else, and as soon as this happens, I end her suffering." He pulls a syringe out of the inside pocket of his suit and hands it to the other man.

"Wait..." Cal steps forward, but there are two strong men between him and Gillian, willing to resort to violence. He wouldn't even come near to her.

"There are three phases," the man continues, seemingly unfazed but eying Cal warily. "The first is pain. Then there are hallucinations that are much worse than the pain. And the last phase is death. It's up to you to stop it before Dr. Foster, or _Gill_ as you affectionately call her, goes insane or dies. By the way, I never saw someone experience the hallucinations and come out of it unharmed."

"By the way," Cal growls, "I'm going to kill you if something happens to her." He is aware that he is in an inferior position, but a verbal threat is all that's left over. Let alone that he wants Gillian to hear it, to know that she is not alone in this, no matter whether he is angry or disappointed or whatever they have to sort out in the aftermath. She needs to know that there is an aftermath, that he believes they will make it out of here somehow.

"What is this about anyway?" Cal adds when the man doesn't react to his provocation. "Someone needs to tell me. Otherwise, I don't know what shit I am supposed to tell you."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it?" the man responds, and Cal is getting more and more desperate. They will pull it through. Hurt Gillian. And he will have to watch helplessly.

"What is it I have to tell them to make them stop?" Cal addresses Gillian again. He is running out of time. If neither of the men tells him then she has to, but her answer makes his blood run cold.

"Nothing. They have to realize that you really don't know anything."

"Bloody hell, Gillian," Cal has enough. "They don't plan to let us go! They will kill me anyway, no matter what I tell them or not."

Her eyes darken, an endless sadness reflected in them. Never before, he saw such a look on her face.

"I know, Cal," she then whispers, her voice hardly audible. "And if you have any idea how to get us out of here, I really...," her voice trails off while she is desperately trying to blink back tears. "But at least your family will live when they realize that you don't know anything and told no one else. I'm sorry that you will have to see me suffer to make your statement trustworthy."

Let alone that he may have to watch her die. Phase three. Cal's thoughts are spinning. Somebody obviously threatened her to the point that she didn't dare to tell him about it because otherwise his family would have been in danger. He doesn't know what to think or feel anymore. In a way, she betrayed him, but it was well-intentioned. She wanted to protect him and his family just as he always wants to protect her.

"Gill, luv, you don't have to do that," he also whispers, not caring whether the men hear the emotions and longing in the term of endearment. Apparently, they told her what was going to happen while he was unconscious, and she made a choice, decided to sacrifice herself to save his family if there was no other way out. He can't let that happen, of course. There has to be another way.

"It's not as if she has a choice," the man in the suit intervenes. "And perhaps...," he makes a dramatic pause, "...you won't mind what is going to happen to her that much after you listened to this."

In front of one of the walls, there is a table with a laptop on it. Cal didn't pay attention to it so far. The man walks over and stretches out his hand to press a key but stops at the last moment, turning around again.

"You must know, Dr. Lightman, that your colleague, Dr. Foster, trusted your staff member, Mr. Loker, enough to tell him about this but not you. Not her partner and friend."

The atmosphere in the room changes. Cal feels it. He may not always be able to read Gillian, but most of the time he can sense her mood without even looking at her. Right now, he senses fear. Raw and untamed.

"No... Cal...," her voice is urging, frantic. They might have told her about the injection but apparently not that they planned to do this.

The man hits play, and voices fill the room. Cal hears himself and Gillian and knows instantly what this is. His psychological evaluation. Almost eight years ago. Private moments between them. Almost intimate. It was purely professional. Still, hearing it here sullies the memory. Those were the moments when he started to trust her. The basis of their friendship.

Cal looks at Gillian, but she is not in the position to speak or even look at him anymore. The man beside her roughly grabbed her chin and pulled it up so that her throat is exposed, injecting whatever is inside the syringe into her neck. It is not exactly a gentle process. Cal watches her body tense in an effort to handle the pain, a small trickle of blood running down her skin. This is only the beginning, and he should be dead scared for her life. All he is feeling, though, is confusion. If there is one thing he always was sure of, then it is the fact that Gillian would never deliberately lie to him. Perhaps withhold something from him to protect him but not lie to him. Never. However, what he is listening to is undeniable proof that she did exactly that.

He hears his voice. "Is this session being recorded?"

It is followed by her immediate answer. "I would not tolerate anyone recording what is said in here."

No hesitation. No uncertainty. Indications that she was telling the truth. Save that she wasn't.

And he always thought she was a bad liar.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you are not annoyed that I end most of the chapters with another A/N, but often I feel the need to say or explain something that I can only talk/write about after you read the chapter (because I don't want to spoil anybody).

The moment when Cal realized that his sessions had been taped was the first moment on the show when he started to get wary. Therefore, I wanted to give that moment an equally important counterpart here. It's all about how much they trust each other and how essential and destructive it would be if that trust was taken away from them.

Aside from that: Too creepy? Not creepy enough? Let me know. Every review is very appreciated. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Here is the next chapter. It deals with the effects of Cal's discovery that his psychological evaluation was recorded back then and how this influences his ability to trust Gillian. Furthermore, there are some explanations such as how Loker came to the basement. There are too many loose ends right now that need to be solved one after the other. Oh, and Cal may have an idea how to get them out.

I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you so much for your reviews and alerts (and this includes, as always, all the lovely guest reviewers, meaning Clo, Kam and whoever just reviewed as "guest"). I hope you all continue to enjoy the story.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. LTM and its characters are owned by FOX. All I own is the idea for this storyline and an obvious obsession with Callian. ;)

* * *

They stopped the playback of the recording. Listening to it wasn't the point anyway. It was about showing Cal that there was a recording when he always had been convinced that there wasn't.

After her initial desperate reaction when she realized that they would make him listen to the recording of his own psychological evaluation, Gillian remained silent. Cal can't tell whether this is already the effect of the injection (and he really hopes that it isn't) or whether she simply doesn't know what to say to him to clear up the matter (and this variation isn't much better).

So, here they are. Like caged animals under observation. Cal is pacing back and forth while Gillian is sitting on the chair motionlessly, hands still tied behind her back. The men just watch and wait, playing a power game to cast doubt. And it is working. If there is a recording in spite of the fact that Gillian assured him his sessions wouldn't be recorded, if she actually managed to withhold this information from him, then what else didn't she tell him? Cal is well aware that the men pursue the purpose to make him so angry with her that he will spill everything. Save that he still doesn't know what it is they want him to concede or make sure that he really isn't informed of. Yet, they have succeeded in infuriating him. He is almost shaking with rage, never has been so mad at her before. Deep down, Cal knows that Gillian would never deliberately hurt him, and he also knows that his rage is only playing into the hands of their kidnappers and is doing them no good. However, he can't help it. It is the essence of their relationship – relying on each other, trusting each other. That's why they are close despite the line, giving each other space one moment and confiding in each other the next. Their relationship is a tightrope walk, a balancing act, but beneath all this is a solid fundament. Or at least he always thought it was solid because what if it actually was based on a lie? His world would fall apart.

Cal has avoided looking at Gillian since the playback of the recording started. Now, he stops pacing and looks at her. She is a picture of misery. The blood from the cuts on her arms and forehead caused by the explosion has dried in the meantime, but the splinters of glass are still all over her. Her eyes meet his hesitatingly, afraid what she will see in them.

"I asked you back then, and I'm asking you again." Cal strides out until he is standing right in front of her, ignoring the man beside her, who is toying provocatively with the taser, blocking out the leader behind him. As far as he is concerned, it's only the two of them in the room. "Did you know the sessions were being taped, and if so, who was doing the recording?"

"It was the Pentagon. Of course, it occurred to me it could have been bugged. Do I know by who? You know me better than that, Cal," Gillian answers without hesitation.

Through the haze of his anger, rational thought is digging its way. She is right. It was the Pentagon. He should have expected something like that. The fact that there is a recording doesn't necessarily mean that she knew about it. Cal is aware, though, why the men almost, and much too easily, managed to make him believe that she intentionally lied to him. Something about the Doyle case and the sessions always felt wrong. The way Gillian, or rather Dr. Foster back then, phrased some sentences, pointed out certain things, felt as if she knew more than she was letting on. _Some collateral damage can be avoided. We would be irresponsible not to talk about Emily_, he remembers how she mentioned his daughter. All the time, she tried to convince him that there had been no cover-up, that there was nothing he was to blame for. There were moments when it seemed to be obvious that there was more she couldn't tell him. He could see it. It was written all over her face. A face he could read before they became close friends, and maybe more, and she became his blind spot. Then there were moments when he considered it possible that he was just paranoid, that no one threatened his family and that he was reading something between the lines that simply wasn't there.

However, his anger is gone. _You know me better than that, Cal._ Yes, he does. This is Gillian. No matter what she did or did not know back then, no matter what she did or did not withhold recently – she would never do him any harm. He would entrust his life to her and knows that she would do so vice versa. In a way, she does it right now because her survival depends on his actions.

He notices beads of perspiration on her forehead. She is sweating in spite of the low temperature and shivers slightly.

"Are you feeling well?" he asks concerned before he realizes how silly a question this is.

She snorts. "Do I feel well? No, Cal. I don't feel well. My head feels as if it is going to explode any second. The cuts hurt, and it is really uncomfortable having to sit like this, with my hands tied behind my back, for hours. Let alone that I would like to go to the bathroom. Did I mention the glass that is still all over me? These tiny splinters feel as if somebody is peeling off my skin. So, you worry about the recording? Yeah, Cal, I worry about it, too, because I knew nothing about it. _Nothing_." Gillian tears up, and he feels bad for her. She is hurt and apparently in pain, and here he is, obsessing about a wanky recording.

But just when Cal is about to ask her if she is in much pain, he discerns that it's probably not a good idea to let the men know that their power game didn't work out, that he still trusts her. Therefore, he decides to put on an act. He may get away with one concerned question. Another one would for sure undermine his spontaneous plan. He needs to gather more information if he wants to find a way to get them out of here. Hence, he has to get the men to talk to him, and they will most likely only do this when they assume that he is breaking with Gillian. It's not a well-wrought plan. What the hell! It's not even an actual plan, more like a rough sketch. There is no other option, though, even if the imagination of what he has to do to her to be convincing tears at his heart. Cal takes a deep breath and starts his rant.

"Nothing? Bloody hell! You lied to me about the recording. All that talk about you being a bad liar. That was a _lie_," he hisses and watches her flinch. "Now, I can see that you're hurt. And I'm really sorry. But I'm hurt too. And, believe me, the feeling that my _best friend_ betrayed me hurts much more than your cuts and bruises ever can." He stops and takes another deep breath. It was the right mixture of anger and concern to make his feigned disgust at her behavior realistic.

_Look at me Gillian_, he pleads silently. _Look at my face and realize it's all an act. _He can tell her everything with his face. _Use your words, Cal_, she often reminds him when he prefers no words to say something. Here and now, though, she obviously is so exhausted, let alone that the pain caused by the injection seems to get worse by the minute, that he doesn't get through to her. Briefly he considers to stop his act for her sake. But there is no plan B, nothing else he can think of that may get them out of here. And the worst is that this probably even wasn't enough to make their kidnappers believe him.

He steps closer and squats down in front of Gillian, his face on eye level with hers.

"Cal..." Just moments ago she talked to him. Right now, she has problems getting his name out, fighting against waves of pain. Whatever else she wants to say remains trapped within her oppressed body.

"You considered it likely that your office was bugged and turns out that it was. Still, you didn't tell me. Neither back then nor afterwards. How am I ever supposed to trust you again?" he spits.

Finally, she looks at him, really looks at him, and he sees a split of recognition before her face is overshadowed by anxiety and regret. She was close to seeing the truth but is too weak to actually read him, and all that's left is her fear to lose him. This is another thing the pain does. She is not able to hide her emotions anymore from him. He can read her like an open book.

Suddenly, she whimpers and bends over as far as her ties let her. Her face is almost at his chest, and he smells her shampoo and is overwhelmed with the need to touch and hold her, comfort her.

"Gill," Cal mumbles almost inaudibly, hoping that the men can't hear him over her groans and that her body shields his face so that they don't see him talking to her either. "Luv, look at me..."

If only he could give her a sign that this is not his rage talking, that it is all an act and that they will sort it out in the aftermath, whatever it is they have to deal with. But she doesn't even notice that he is talking to her. Her world has reduced to pain and the effort not to lose consciousness.

"Sit up," the man beside Gillian shouts, apparently getting suspicious because they are too close. He pulls her up, and she groans again, louder this time. It's half a scream, and she grits her teeth to suppress it. Gillian Foster is a fighter. A character trait that those who don't know her well underestimate.

Cal stands up and turns around, facing the leader as if he doesn't care about her condition at all while in actual fact he is painfully aware of every shattered breath and every whimper coming from her. His hands are clenched fists, hidden in his trousers pockets. He forbids himself the imagination that he may not be able to save her and that her last memory of him will be that he treated her like that. But there is no time for self-pity. He has to find out what this is all about.

"How did he come here, anyway?" Cal asks, pointing at Loker, who seems to be unconscious by now but alive. He can see him breathing.

The leader studies him warily, pondering on what to tell him.

"We surveilled her," he then says, hinting at Gillian. "When we saw them come out of the bar together, we thought it would be better to keep him under surveillance, too. Of course, we could have just asked you," he adds, smirking, alluding to the fact that Cal also observed Gillian and, albeit involuntarily, Loker in the process.

"And he..." Cal points at Loker again. "Had the recording." He draw that conclusion from what the man said before. That Gillian trusted Loker with it and not him. Why else would Loker be here?

"He was on his way to run some errands for your colleague, but she called him and ordered him back to the office before he could carry out the order, told him to show the recording to no one. Figured we better make sure he really can't show it to anybody." Their phones. Of course. They are tapped. Their office is probably the only place that isn't bugged. Otherwise, their kidnappers would know even more, including that he has Doyle, and they don't seem to know that. It pays off one more time that they spent so much time and money on turning their office into a fortress. So, they heard Gillian talk on the phone to Loker about the recording and kidnapped him right before, or maybe parallel, to their abduction. And they beat Loker to make him tell them what he knew about the recording which most likely was basically nothing. Cal doesn't know why Gillian gave Loker the recording, but he knows her so much that she must have been desperate to do it in the first place. Therefore, she for sure let him in on it as less as possible.

The man enjoys telling him this. He is literally eager to show off how smart he is. Surveilling them, tapping their phones, kidnapping them. Well, Cal won't stop his oral fluency, collecting the facts, weighing his options. _Probably wanted to work for the state_, Cal thinks, watching the man closely, _and got rejected because he failed to pass the recruitment test that revealed he is a sociopath. _It's the classic story. There are classified lists for men like him so that they can be hired later to do the dirty work. And if they are busted, the officials deny the alliance. Just a sociopath gone haywire.

"It wasn't planned like this. Originally, it was only the plan to surveil her and make sure neither of you did something inconsiderate. But then Andrews couldn't keep his mouth shut, and I had to come up with another plan in no time." Oh, yes, he _really_ wants to show off and impress the famous Dr. Lightman, prove that he is smarter than a scientist with a doctor's degree. He even changed the subject to first person without noticing it. Maybe he is a sociopath gone haywire, and there is no alliance, no unofficial order. _No_, Cal decides, _there is more to it_. The man is too well informed of their past. Then Cal suddenly realizes whose name he just heard.

"Andrews?" he asks. "As in her ex-boss Henry Andrews?" Cal didn't see the news, doesn't know that he is talking about a dead man.

"We had to act, make sure that there are no leaks. Not Andrews, not one of you." It's not an answer, but in a way it explains even more.

"Andrews is...," Cal starts.

"...dead," the man confirms.

Slowly but surely, Cal is able to connect the dots and paint the picture although it is not a pretty one.

"The explosion...," he starts again, only to let the leader finish his thoughts another time.

"...was a necessary distraction to kidnap you."

A necessary distraction that most likely cost several innocent people their lives and injured even more. They simply waited until Gillian went outside and... boom. Not really in proportion, but that is for sure an issue the man doesn't bother about. They know their office is a fortress and that their only chance to get her, or rather them, was when they were outside.

"What if I hadn't come after her?"

"You would have come after her anyway," the man smirks. "You just made it easier for us by following her immediately."

So, Gillian is the bait, he is the catch, and Loker is collateral damage.

"The CD with the recording...," Cal begins another sentence.

"...was a warning for her." The man does really not seem to notice that Cal manipulates him. Or at least he does not seem to mind. Then again, Cal is not supposed to leave the basement again. At least not as long as he is breathing. Therefore, why not tell him everything? Except the one thing they are still waiting for to hear from him.

And with this, Cal connects the last dots. His psychic evaluation. Her ex-boss. All the dots lead in one straight line to one name – Doyle. If Cal learned one thing from the past, then it is that there are no coincidences. If we think there are, we are just not able to understand the reason why certain things happen. And there it is. His trump card. All this is about Doyle. He doesn't have the time to evaluate what that means, but he has Doyle, and they don't know it. Nothing else matters right now. For some reason, they didn't observe the stairwell, didn't see Doyle enter the building. Just this once, Cal enjoys the rub of the green. If there is a ticket out of here, then this is it.

He hears a sound behind him that is neither whimper nor cry but pure agony. Gillian. It breaks his heart, and he turns around to look at her. She is barely conscious, gasping for breath. God, Cal doesn't dare to imagine how phase two will be if this is already that bad. He swallows and says a silent thank you that none of the men is even remotely able to read micro expressions because he is pretty sure that he hardly manages to hide his real emotions. His body is almost magnetically drawn to her, and his rage at the men, who make her suffer, flares. Perhaps he should give up the long con and knock them down instead, grab Gillian and try to run. He is well aware, though, that they would never make it. There are more men outside of this room. He is by no means a coward, but he knows when to fight or flight and when to behave and come up with another idea. If there is one thing Cal Lightman is really good at, aside from reading micro expressions, then it's survival.

"I have Doyle," he states. "Whatever you believe she did or did not tell me, I have no idea." He emphasizes the last two words. "But I have Doyle. And I think this somehow collides with your idea of cleaning this mess up unless...," he makes a pause that seems to be a dramatic effect whereas in reality he listens unobtrusively whether Gillian is still breathing. She is but much too fitfully for his taste. "...unless I cooperate with you and make sure that Doyle keeps quiet."

"You don't have Doyle. This is a ruse," the man says hostilely. But Cal can read in his face that he apprehends the famous Dr. Lightman is capable of having such an ace up his sleeve even if he doesn't like it one bit.

"Prove it," he adds when Cal doesn't show the slightest indication that he is bluffing.

"He came to me today. Right before the explosion. Used the stairwell so that for any reason your men didn't discover him," Cal simply tells the truth. "And now he is in our office. You will never get to him without causing a stir because, as you know, our office is a damn fortress. No way in. So, call whoever hired you, and let me negotiate."

The man tries to mask his unease, but the signs are obvious. He is fiddling with his fingers nervously, and his posture is tense. Cal knows he almost got him.

Abruptly, the leader beckons the other man over, and they leave the room together – most likely to confer or even to make said call although Cal highly doubts that they actually will let him do the talking. Considering that Loker is still unconscious and Gillian in bad shape, it isn't risky to leave them behind without their guards. Let alone that the room has no windows and just one door. There is no way out.

Cal squats down in front of Gillian again, his hands on her knees to support himself. Unlike some hours ago, when he had his hand on her thigh, the contact is not in the least erotic. It's rather a relief that he finally has the opportunity to touch her.

"Gill..."

Her eyes are closed, but she opens them when she hears his voice. She even seems to recognize him and tries to speak. Gillian doesn't manage to get the word out, but Cal almost feels certain that she tried to say his name.

"Hang on for a bit longer. Can you do that for me, luv?" he whispers tenderly, caressing her face.

The temperature of her skin is much too high; she most likely has a fever. The look in her eyes, though, is astonishingly clear as if she is looking right into his soul. And for once, he can look back into hers. As he already noticed before, the exceptional situation, the emotional drain and the physical fatigue, take its toll. She is not able to hide her feelings from him as she usually is.

Cal can't count how many times he wished she wasn't his blind spot, how desperately he wanted to read her, wanted to know what she was thinking in this or that moment, and moreover, what she was feeling. Then again, there were just as many times when he was glad he couldn't read her, was afraid he would find incomprehension or rejection. None of this he finds now although what he actually sees scares him even more. Much more.

Because no matter what he said to her as part of his plan, no matter how seemingly bad he treated her – there is only one thing written all over Gillian's face. Her unconditional love for him.

* * *

**Yes, despite the angst-ridden stuff, deep down I'm a sucker for romance.**

**And I know I said this would be the last creepy basement chapter, but I need another one to get them out (oops, spoiler, sorry). ;)**

**As always, every review, long or short, praise or constructive criticism, is highly appreciated. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Here is the next chapter. First, some Doyle and Torres, and then, some more basement angst with Cal and Gillian. I kind of creeped myself out with it.

To those of you who embrace the angst: I hope you will enjoy this. To those of you who can't wait that the creepy part is over: It is indeed over after this chapter (the creepy part not the story; there will be some more chapters), but I hope you will enjoy it, anyway.

To all of you reading this: Thank you so much !

**Disclaimer:** Always the same. Not mine.

* * *

Ria Torres can't believe what she's doing. Over the years, she did some crazy things. _Really_ crazy things, but this takes the cake. By far. She is sitting in a car, driving at full speed to an address where Lightman and Foster are held captive. And as if that weren't enough, there is a wanted IRA terrorist on her right. Jimmy Doyle.

If this goes wrong, it will get her into a real mess. One that means that she will lose her job at least or end up in prison at worst.

She can feel Doyle looking at her.

"You are a brave woman," he says.

Praise from a criminal. Now, if that doesn't lighten up her mood. "Shut up," is her tense response.

Doyle keeps quiet hereafter, and somehow, Ria almost wishes he wouldn't. Her thoughts are too loud; she can hear them echoing in the confined space of the car. She should have listened to Lightman, should have done what he said for once. Why is it that she doesn't seem to be able to follow orders?

_You stay here. I'm going to look for Foster_, she remembers his words._ No one gets in; no one gets out. _It was only a few hours ago, and the memories of that moment, and what happened next, are still vivid.

_When her superior, Cal Lightman, told her to stay in the office and to let no one enter the room where he apparently had locked someone in, she knew something was going on. Something big._

_First Loker had left the office, then Foster, then the explosion. Let alone that something else must have happened just before Lightman decided to go after Foster. And she was supposed to stay inside and wait it out? Nice try, Lightman._

_She allowed him a headstart so that he wouldn't notice her following him down the stairs into the lobby first and then outside. It was a scenery of total destruction, like walking through one of her worst nightmares, and she had to focus not to lose sight of him. From a safe distance, she watched him and Foster. Thank God, Foster was okay. Well, as okay as one could be given the circumstances. She and Gillian aren't close; there isn't a natural bond as the one she feels between her and Lightman, but she really likes Foster. In a way, Torres likes her even more than Lightman. She just doesn't know how to deal with someone as warm-hearted and sympathetic as Gillian Foster. Ria Torres is rather used to dealing with unpredictable and self-centered people like Cal Lightman. Her relief that Foster was alive didn't last long though. It was surreal when she saw the van approach, masked men jumping out and kidnapping Lightman and Foster. Her bad day had just gotten much worse. Well, not to mention Foster's and Lightman's day._

_Ria was too far away to prevent the abduction. She could see Lightman fighting and Foster screaming, but no one noticed. The world was upside down after the explosion, anyway. All she could do was memorize the license plate number. With shaking fingers, she called Wallowski and was surprised that the call went through. With all the chaos going on, she had actually expected the cellular network to be down. She was even more surprised when Wallowski agreed to track the van without further discussions. All it took was a hint that it was urgent and that Cal Lightman had ordered her to ask for it. Obviously, Wallowski was deeply indebted to The Lightman Group. _

_For some reason, Torres didn't tell Wallowski about the kidnapping. A decision based on pure instinct. She had to find out first who it was Lightman had locked in and if there was a connection. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that Cal Lightman was involved in something not exactly legal. In this case, there was no need to let the police know about it. _

_Ria ran back to the office, leaping several stairs at a time. Who was it Lightman had locked in? She hoped that no one had walked in unawarely and was lucky. Everyone was still distracted by what was going on outside. _

"_Who are you?" There was no time for pleasantries. Torres almost screamed into the mike and pushed a button simultaneously so that the walls became see-through glass again. _

_The man seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn't know where to put him. It would take hours to do a face detection screening. There was only one option..._

"_Don't even try to lie to me," she hissed. "I can see it in your face whether you tell the truth or not."_

_The man thought this over briefly and nodded._

"_Jimmy Doyle," he then said. "Cal Lightman and I have to settle an old score."_

_It was the truth as well as everything else he told her, and she was glad that he couldn't read micro expressions because she had a hard time keeping a straight face hearing all this. The Pentagon. The IRA. An undercover assignment. A possible cover-up. The killing of Doyle's family. When Doyle was finished, she almost felt pity. Almost. He was IRA, after all, and had for sure more than one skeleton in his closet. It was clear, though, that his revenge plans didn't include Lightman. Jimmy Doyle had nothing to do with the explosion or the kidnapping. To the contrary, he had hoped to engage Cal Lightman as an ally. _

_Just when Ria was pondering on what to make out of the information and how the rest of what happened fit in, her phone rang. Wallowski had an address for her. The van had driven into the parking garage of a warehouse. Again, Torres had been lucky. If the van had stopped somewhere outside in plain view of a street camera, Wallowski probably would have seen Lightman and Foster being pulled out of it. As it was, the van was hidden somewhere inside of the building. And so were Lightman and Foster._

_In the end, it was the choice between the devil and the deep blue sea. It was obvious that there had to be a connection between everything that had happened. The thought alone that the Pentagon could be somehow involved made Torres sick. That was an opponent she didn't want to deal with. She didn't even want to think about it. Yet, there was no other option. The bad guys weren't necessarily bad and the good guys weren't necessarily good in this aberration of normalcy. Bottom line, they had to get Lightman and Foster out, Loker was still somewhere, not answering his phone, and there was no way she could tell the police about it considering that an IRA terrorist was her last hope. That left her and Doyle. _

"There," Doyle says curtly, his voice pulling Ria back into reality. They have arrived at the warehouse.

Sometime on their way here, Doyle called his troops and gave them the address, instructed them to _be there_. Ria stops the car, seeing shadowy figures lurking around.

_God help me_, she thinks._ I'm about to incite a freaking riot._

* * *

Cal watches Gillian's eyelids flutter before her head drops back and she breathes even more fitfully.

_She loves him._ He saw it in her face in no uncertain manner even if it was only the split of a second. If Cal is honest with himself, a part of him is almost relieved that they are stuck in a situation that doesn't allow him to reflect about it. As much as he always has been craving for exactly that look in her face, the responsibility is getting him down. If she actually loves him that much, everything he does has an immediate effect on her to an even greater extent than he already was aware of. His subconsciousness starts to tingle, unwanted memories of how badly he hurt her recently coming to his mind. _Not now_, he stops them. Of course, he has to deal with what he saw, with the consequences. This changes things between them; he can't simply forget it or act as if it didn't happen, but first he has to get them out of here.

He steadies her neck, afraid that she will lose consciousness eventually. Then again, it probably wouldn't be that bad. An escape from the pain at least. If only there wasn't the uncertainty what will happen next. Phase two. The hallucinations.

Gillian knows that she is not unconscious or asleep; she just can't keep her eyes open anymore. The pain is gone, and it's such a relief. Yet, there is something else happening, something she can't define. This is a state she has never been in before. Neither awake nor sleeping. Nowhere land.

Cal is still squatting in front of her and stands up to loosen her ties. He doesn't care whether the men will punish him for it. The way Gillian's body threatens to tilt forwards, now that she apparently is about to pass out, makes her position even more uncomfortable. He can't idly stand by and do nothing about it. To his surprise, he manages to loosen her ties by simply tugging at them and bares his teeth when he sees that her wrists are rubbed sore.

She hears something. A whisper. It's far away, yet close. Unintelligible words that finally form a sentence. _Open your eyes. _The words are soft, almost tender, at first before they change slowly but surely into a haunting sing-song. It's the eerie voice of a cursed child. _Stop_, she wants to say. She can't speak, though, can't move, is trapped within her paralyzed body and has to listen helplessly until there seems to be only one way out, only one way to end this. Gillian braces herself and casts up her eyes.

He hears her take a deep breath before she opens her eyes, staring at the wall. Save that there is nothing to see. At least nothing he can see. Cal shivers. Most likely the hallucinations have started. He might have loosened her ties. Anyhow, she is caught up in another world where he can't reach her.

Blood. There is blood pouring out of the wall. Thick and red, dripping out of the dirty masonry. _It's not real_, Gillian keeps telling herself and hears the eerie voice that told her to open her eyes laughing, mocking her. The knowledge that this is not real, that is it merely a hallucination, should help, but it doesn't. She feels like an on-looker about to watch a crash, and there is nothing she can do to prevent it from happening.

The waves of fear consume her. Raw and as intense as she never has experienced it before in her whole life. She knows she still has to be in the basement with Cal and Loker and that her imagination is only playing tricks on her, putting in her mind that she is alone all of a sudden. Nevertheless, the possibility that it could be true, that Cal suddenly is gone, frightens her even more. _Why am I alone? Where is Cal?_ Her reason tries to fight against whatever it is that is happening to her so that fear won't take over completely. But her heartbeat is speeding up, anyway, while she is panting for breath. _It's not real._ Like a flash in the dark, she makes an effort to hold on to this rational thought, a lifeline in the middle of insanity.

"Gill," Cal knows that he most likely won't be able to get through to her. Yet, he at least has to try. He doesn't like how her facial expression changed from confusion over concern to fear, her eyes fixated on the wall all the time. Suddenly, she starts to breathe much too rapidly, and he is worried that she is going to hyperventilate.

Gillian is shivering, every fiber of her body on high alert. The eerie sing-song is back, surrounding her, invading her senses. _It's not real._ Somehow, she manages to close her eyes, in spite of being controlled by this eerie force, and blocks out hereby the pools of blood that by now flow across the floor of the basement and have almost reached her. As soon as she closes her eyes, the haunting voice also stops, and Gillian remains motionless in this blind silence.

Then it happens. She may not see or hear anything, but she feels something. A cold whiff of breath that makes her flesh crawl. She turns around and has to open her eyes again to find out what this _something_ could be. There is nothing and no one though. She is alone. _Cal? _She wants to call for him, but she can't, her throat feeling constricted._ Where are you, Cal? _The thought is caught in her head in an infinite loop although by now she doesn't understand anymore what it means. Who is Cal? All she needs to do is find the source of the whiff that is driving her crazy, caressing her skin with the angst-inducing touch of a dead lover. No matter how fast she is looking and turning around, though, she isn't able to discover the source. And no matter whether her eyes are open or closed, it is there. _Something_ touching her with its ice-cold invisible hands. It has to stop. _Somebody. Anybody. Make it stop, please._ And then it all becomes a macabre orchestra. The voice. The blood pouring out of the wall. The sinister touch. And she snaps.

Cal carefully touches her although it is a difficult task to undertake since Gillian has jumped up and is turning around and around seemingly aimlessly. Maybe contact will help. But instead of calming her down, this seems to be the final straw. She pushes him away from her.

"Gillian," he tries again, more insisting this time, but each time he touches her, she defends herself even more vigorously and when he eventually grabs her shoulders and doesn't let go anymore, she completely panics.

For the first time in his life, Cal has absolutely no idea what to do. He can't let her freak out like this. The men will come back any moment, and unlike him, they will find a way to calm her down the hard way, most likely will enjoy her suffering or will separate them at worst. Cal can't stand the thought that they will be separated while Gillian is suffering like this. Therefore, he has to find a way to stop her. He is no psychologist. Yet, he is aware that it is probably not the best idea to hold someone tight who is having a panic attack. On the other hand, the way she is thrashing around, Cal is afraid that she may seriously hurt herself. Let alone that he has no time to wait this out.

"Gill... Luv... Calm down," he says even if he is quite sure that she doesn't hear him, doesn't recognize him right now. It's a bizarre dance they do. She is retreating and still fighting him until he has trapped her between his body and the wall. Yet, all she does is fight him, hitting him with a force he would never have thought possible coming from her. He will definitely have bruises tomorrow. If there is such a thing as tomorrow for them.

So, this is how they end up. He is pressed against her in a way he dreamed of more than once but not like this, her body writhing to get away from him. This can't be happening. Cal holds Gillian even tighter, catching her wrists to stop her from hitting him, hating the idea that he has to touch her there where her skin is already sore and that he has to hurt her even more in the process, unwittingly or not.

"Calm down, stop," he doesn't know whether he is talking to himself or to her.

Gillian doesn't fight back that fiercely anymore. Instead, she is sobbing uncontrollably, and somehow, this is worse. He has never seen her like this. And they have seen each other at their worst.

Suddenly, Cal hears something at the door. Time has run out. They are coming back, and he can't negotiate with them and handle Gillian at the same time.

He turns around to look at the door and eases his grip on one of her wrists her in doing so. When he looks back at her, she has somehow managed to pull a loose stone out of the wall behind her and is about to bash him on the head with it. It is a reflex, really, but here and now there doesn't seem to be another expedient. As tenderly as possible, Cal knocks her out and catches Gillian when her body goes limp.

"Sorry, luv," he mumbles, softly kissing her temple.

But when the door finally opens, there are not their kidnappers standing in front of him. Cal almost doubts who is the one having hallucinations when he catches sight of Doyle and Torres instead. In the background, he hears an armed struggle going on. So, they brought a little army along? He should be mad at Torres, but – damn – she never fails to amaze him, and he never ever was so glad to see the smug smile that only he is able to detect in her straight face.

"Torres, did you feel bored? Felt the need to let a terrorist run free?" he greets her.

Insecurity flickers across her face because, of course, she isn't as confident that it was the right thing to do as she probably made herself believe to pull it through. The insecurity is accompanied by confusion and concern when she discovers Gillian's limp body. But just when she draws breath to speak, he interrupts her.

"We'll clear that up later. First, I'd really like to get out of here," Cal says, giving Gillian a fireman's lift and walking past them through the door. He could have carried her in the traditional way. Then again, he may need one of his hands to remove the one or other obstacle on their way out.

"Don't forget Loker," he informs Doyle and Torres in passing.

It's only now that Ria sees Loker lying there. She was too distracted at the sight of Lightman holding an apparently unconscious Foster upright. Doyle barks some orders, and instantly, two of his men drag Loker out rather inelegantly.

The hallway of the basement is longer than Cal expected. He doesn't look left or right, barely notices bodies lying here and there. He doesn't know whether these are Doyle's men or not, simply doesn't care. All he wants is to get out, to get Gillian out. Upstairs. A wooden stairs. Crackling at each step. Her hip bone pressing in his shoulder. And then, eventually, fresh air. It's dark by now, but they are outside. They are free.

"Look at the stars, darling," he murmurs. "I never realized there were so many stars."

* * *

**I really hope you don't hate me because I made Cal knock Gillian out. At least it was the most tender punch in history.**

**From next chapter on: The emotional aftermath and stuff.**

**Thank you for reading & even more if you leave a review. They make my day, really.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** When I started to write this chapter, I had absolutely no idea what would or should happen next. Well, of course, I was aware that they somehow had to deal with...everything, but how start it all...? Thankfully, I had Cal and Gillian to show me the way. Then the chapter kept getting longer and longer and I considered splitting it up. On the other hand, I guess that most of you are waiting for some Callian emotional aftermath and since this is the second part of the chapter, I didn't want to make you wait any longer. Without revealing too much, I can tell you that Gillian's confession doesn't go as smoothly here as it went on the show in terms of Cal's reaction. The anticipation is already killing you? Well, then get a coffee, tea, whatever is your favorite flavor, sit back and enjoy.

But first and as always, let me thank you so much for you constant support & the lovely reviews. That goes also for you, Kam and Lau. I didn't get around to answering everyone personally until today (sorry, blame it on life...) so check your inbox. ;)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

At some point, her heart stops beating. Thank God, they have already arrived at the hospital at that time, and Gillian is in intensive care. When the doctors inform Cal about it (aside from the fact that he brought her here, he is listed as her emergency contact), the resuscitation has been successful, and she is not in a serious condition anymore. The thought alone that she had to be resuscitated is enough, though, to make Cal's hands shiver when he drinks an awful tasting coffee at the cafeteria of the hospital, the awareness what a close call it all was slowly sinking in. He almost lost her.

Ria drove them to the hospital. It would have been too risky to call an ambulance and wait for it at the warehouse, crime scene, whatever it was. Their drive to the hospital felt like a twisted family reunion. Loker regained consciousness and was even able to walk into the hospital with his last ounce of strength whereas Cal had to carry Gillian inside. Unlike Loker, she hadn't regained consciousness. As soon as doctors and nursing staff detected the unconscious woman covered in dried blood due to the injuries caused by the explosion, she was put on a gurney and given medical treatment. It was the right thing to do, of course. Nevertheless, all Cal could think was how much he hated that she was taken away from him, still feeling her limp, yet almost weightless, body in his arms.

Cal has some minor injuries but reduces his own treatment to a minimum since he wants to be at Gillian's side when she wakes up. During the first days, she is drifting in and out of consciousness, barely recognizing her surroundings, including him. Based on the results of the tox screening, the injection was a cocktail of several drugs causing the side effects Cal witnessed firsthand. The third and last phase would have been death, indeed, as the men announced. Basically, Gillian would have died from an overdose. Just as pain and hallucinations were the, in this case intended, side effects, the treatment that gets the drugs out of her system again, causes symptoms similar to a drug withdrawal. It only takes 48 hours, and the medication keeps the, this time undesired, side effects to a minimum – let alone that her general state of health mercifully prevents that she realizes what is happening. Yet, it is hard for Cal to watch her much too pale body lying nearly lifelessly in the hospital bed.

He could have lost her. His thoughts always return to this. It's as inevitable as horrifying, and the only thing that helps is sitting at her side, touching her soft skin, hoping that the doctors were right when they assured him that the cuts on her arms and forehead will heal with barely any scarring. She would be beautiful despite some scars, but Cal can well do without the reminder of his almost loss every time he looks at her.

* * *

When she finally wakes up and recognizes him, she smiles and lets him fill her in on the details. She refuses, though, to share her own experiences, especially the ones she had during the hallucinations.

"Can we not talk about this now, please," Gillian tells him whenever he brings it up.

So, Cal doesn't push her. All in its proper time. And this also goes for what kind of information the men believed he might have and why they believed it in the first place.

He is so glad that she is alive and kicking – more or less that is – and at the same time, he doesn't know how to deal with this fragile shell of the woman he knows inside out. Or at least thought he did because she is not only his best friend and business partner anymore. She is the woman who _loves him_. Cal isn't sure whether he considers it a good thing or fallout that he saw proof of it in her face. He doesn't have to think twice to admit that he loves her too. Well, he hasn't admitted this to anybody as yet, especially not to her, but deep inside he knows it, has been aware of it for quite a long time. Most likely he already loved her before she fell for him. It is another matter, though, what he intends to do about it. It's not as if a mutual love confession will necessarily make things easier between them. Probably the reverse is true. What they have, what they are to each other, is complicated.

* * *

As for the rest, Cal calls Wallowski, and she manages to keep the police – at least other police than her – out of it. He had to tell the doctors something about their injuries and came up with a far-fetched story, even by his standards, of a mugging that ended up with assault and battery by someone they weren't able to make out in the dark. However, someone that crazy that Gillian was injected with a special drug cocktail. Very far-fetched, actually. Since it is Wallowski who takes their witness statements, they fortunately never make it into an official report. In between, Wallowski darts the one or other angry look at Torres. She doesn't like to be played for a fool and makes clear that this will be her last favor. They are even now, and their ways will part after this. Cal doesn't disagree. It is better this way. His former involvement with her already did enough damage as far as his relationship with Gillian is concerned.

No one has heard from Doyle or seen him. There is also no media coverage of a shooting or another incident at the warehouse. It's as if nothing happened. Even so, there are the unanswered questions what happened to Doyle and whether some unofficial dark forces are still on the hunt for them. However, Cal's instinct tells him that the way things went was so bad that another attempt would probably attract too much attention so that they are at least not in immediate danger.

* * *

Almost two weeks later, Gillian is released from the hospital.

The other three, Cal, Loker and Torres, are already back at work. The lobby is still a construction site due to the destruction caused by the explosion, but the rest of the building as well as their office is undamaged. They have to run a company, after all, and Loker's injuries weren't as serious as they appeared to be. He only had to stay at the hospital for a couple of days.

Cal, of course, will come by to pick her up and drive her home. All the more, Gillian is surprised when Loker enters her hospital room. She wants to clear up what happened with him, but she doesn't know whether she is ready for it here and now.

"Hey," she greets him rather reluctantly, aware that the guilt she is feeling shines through. She is Cal's blind spot not Loker's.

But Loker genuinely smiles at her.

"Gillian... Hey..," he pauses, and she realizes that he is... embarrassed? "I'm glad that you're okay. Um... I hoped to catch you before Lightman arrives. Thought it would be better to do this here than at the office where somebody can walk in any time or at your home. I didn't want to do it earlier either since I didn't know whether you felt up to it. Let alone that Lightman was around all the time."

He is nervous and rambling on albeit he has no reason to act like this. It was her fault that he was kidnapped and beaten up badly because she handed the disc over to him. There is nothing he has to feel guilty or ashamed of, and yet, he even considered visiting her at home to talk about it. Now, that would have been awkward, indeed. Gillian is a very private person, and as much as she likes Loker, she doesn't want him visiting her at home. So, let's clear up things right now.

"Eli, let me tell you how sorry I am that all this happened to you." She is. Her own situation is bad, but the knowledge that it was solely her fault that Loker ended up in that basement feeds her guilt every day anew. They made her watch when they beat him up in spite of the fact that he didn't know anything. She told them, begged them, over and over to stop and let him go even if it was to no avail.

"I guess I wasn't the bravest guy," Loker admits almost shyly although he tries to play it down, delivering the words with a hint of irony.

Suddenly, Gillian realizes the reason for his embarrassment. He is afraid that she thinks less of him as a man because he was groaning with pain from time to time during the beating. _Men_. Here she is feeling guilty, and all he cares about is his manliness.

"Don't say that. You took the hardest beating without batting an eyelid." Is it possible to compliment a man on the way he dealt with physical violence? Well, apparently, it is because his eyes light up.

"Any time," he replies, more confident now, and gives her his usual charming Loker smile.

"I hope not," is Gillian's honest response. "Really." She approaches him and touches his arm. "I'm glad you're okay, Eli. And I hope you forgive me. I didn't consider something like that to be even remotely possible. Otherwise, I would have never involved you."

He looks at her and when she doesn't add anything and simply stands there looking back at him, he blushes almost imperceptibly. She notices it anyway and pats his arm a little clumsily before she steps away.

"By the way," she says, "did Cal ask you about the disc?"

"No," Loker shakes his head, "but I'd appreciate it if you cleared things up with him. Whatever it is you two have to clear up. The way he is looking at me lately makes me worry about my salary, and I won't make it through some further months without payment." Loker refers to his punishment after he betrayed a client. They didn't fire him but made him work unpaid temporarily.

"I will," she assures him of it just as someone clears his throat. Cal has appeared at the door.

"Ready to leave, Gill?" he asks rather accentuated, and Gillian can't even say goodbye as fast as Loker is heading out of the room.

"Little reunion of you two lovebirds?" Cal asks sarcastically, grabbing her bag.

"Oh, spare me, Cal," Gillian tries to shut him up but has to smile. Loker is an unlucky fellow sometimes.

* * *

Gillian is released on a Friday and will get back to work on Monday. The doctors reluctantly agreed. Cal doesn't like at all that there is a whole weekend between now and Monday. A weekend she insists on spending alone at home.

She is still in that distanced mood, not talking about things, and he slowly but surely reaches the point at which he can't and won't accept it anymore. At least she allows him to carry her bag inside and make sure that there is enough food in the fridge. Food he bought and put in there. He has a spare key after all. He checks, anyway, asks random questions, anything to stall before he has to leave. Eventually he does though.

"Call me if you need me."

He caresses her face on his way out, and the tenderness in his touch almost causes her to change her mind and ask him to stay. As he offered countless times, but she doesn't want him to mother her. There is too much going on in her head that she has to deal with on her own.

Gillian knows that she has to come to terms with what happened, with all of it. The kidnapping, the injection, the hallucinations, the knowledge that her heart stopped beating and she had to resuscitated. Let alone with everything else. With the fact that she still didn't tell Cal that she was approached by someone back then and now, that this is the ultimate proof that there was a cover-up and that he was part of it. _They_ were part of it. But it's simply too much to handle it at once. As a trained psychologist, she is aware that it will be best to do one step at a time. She just has to figure out whichever is the first step so that the healing process can begin.

* * *

Cal makes it approximately 30 hours before he gives in and drives back to her house. She opens the door before he even has a chance to knock.

"Heard your car," she explains, already turning around and walking inside again.

"I was in the neighborhood," he lies, knowing that she knows it's a pretense. "Just wanted to stop by to see if you need anything."

"As if you don't know everything is fine," she responds, but she seems to be more relaxed now that she is home. "Since you called like, what?, a dozen times today."

It wasn't a dozen times. She shamelessly exaggerates. Maybe ten times. But a dozen? Never! This insinuation is not even worth a reply. He just snorts, following her inside.

They are in her kitchen. She takes out a glass to offer him something to drink, and Cal realizes how much he likes the domestic feel this simple action implies. They know each other. They are comfortable around each other. Maybe this could really work. Maybe they could work _as a couple_.

"Cal?" her voice interrupts his thoughts. She is slightly amused at his lack in concentration; he can hear as much. Sometimes it irritates her as hell and sometimes she admires it as part of his sexy, intelligent mind. Cal's thoughts are always straying.

"What do you want to drink? Water or alcohol?" she repeats the question, being almost her flirty self, fiddling around with the glass and smiling at him.

However, the normalcy only exists at first glance. If you take a closer look, everything is different. Her knuckles are too white because she is holding the glass too tightly; her smile is genuine but not reaching her eyes. Not to mention her clothes, a jeans and a shirt, that are hanging too loosely instead of flattering her curves he not-so-secretly checks out every day.

"I had to make sure that you are really okay." Cal is suddenly serious, approaching her.

When he touches her arm and pats it gently, tears almost immediately well up in her eyes, and she hates it. She is not okay, and apparently, it only takes a few nice words to drive her over the edge. Gillian doesn't want Cal to witness her weakness firsthand. Not this time. Not when it's about them and trust and...

"Come here, luv."

He pulls her into a soft embrace. She can't stop the tears from falling, and he can't watch her cry and do nothing about it. Much too quickly for his taste, though, she disentangles herself and backs off.

"I'm okay, Cal," she assures him. "Just because I feel the need to cry now and then doesn't mean I'm not."

"No need to justify yourself," he retorts. Even if Gillian weeps easily, she usually doesn't justify it. Right now, she does it.

He holds her gaze and studies her scrutinizingly, waiting for her to decide what to do or say next.

"Don't do that," she shifts uncomfortably. "Don't look at me as if you...," Gillian stops abruptly.

She was about to say _as if you don't trust me_, and she doesn't know where this was coming from. Well, of course, she knows, being a psychologist and all, but she didn't expect it because rationally she is conscious of his trust in her. Yet, this seems to be the consequence she fears most due to everything that happened – that Cal won't trust her anymore as he used to do, as he hopefully still does, unaware of the things she withheld. She isn't sure how much of his behavior in the basement was an act. Since Gillian was in such a bad condition herself, she couldn't think straight, and she is afraid to ask him flat out, dreading his answer.

Maybe this is the first step she has to take. Tell him. After everything that happened, her initial motive not to tell him because he would know about the cover-up then and act upon it doesn't seem to be relevant anymore. They already had to fight for their lives. What can be worse than that?

Gillian puts the glass away, takes his hand and leads him into her living room. She is very calm and composed. At least she appears to be that way. Beneath the surface, Cal feels the tension she barely manages to bottle up thanks to her well-known self-control.

"I have to tell you something."

Well, he already figured out that much.

They sit on her couch, facing one another, and after a few failed attempts, she eventually spills it all out. The man who came to her house and threatened Cal and his family back then. The same man, the same threats a couple of weeks ago. The disc and how she involved Loker because she hoped to find out more about the men behind it. Her reasons why she didn't, _couldn't_, tell him about it. Cal's face is stoic while he is listening to each and every word. This is what their kidnappers wanted to find out – whether Cal knew all of that and perhaps even told other people about it – because it is proof of the cover-up and their mission was to eliminate the evidence.

On one hand, her confession isn't that much of a surprise given his suspicions regarding her behavior and the insinuations she made when he was her patient. On the other hand, suspecting it and hearing her admit it are two completely different things. At some point, he jumps up and starts pacing back and forth, unable to keep still. As much as Cal might have been prepared for a revelation like this, he isn't prepared at all for the emotional uproar it causes. His first reaction is so intense that it takes his breath away. It's the same feeling he had when they made him listen to the disc in the basement. He feels betrayed, angry. How could she do this to him?

When she is finished, the silence between them is uncomfortable. Cal usually likes the atmosphere of Gillian's house – warm and cozy. Today there are shivers running down his spine.

"Say something," she whispers, and he finally stops pacing to look at her.

"I'm trying, luv, I'm trying," he responds slightly annoyed, searching for the right words when anything that comes to his mind is utterly wrong. Words he only wants to say to hurt her, to make her feel the hurt he is experiencing at the moment.

Actually, Cal wants to leave, but he stays, aware that this is only a fight-or-flight response due to his anger. He neither wants to fight nor to run away, doesn't want to do this to her now that she eventually decided to tell him the truth. Part of him knows, though, that if he doesn't leave, there will be a fight.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly, watching the emotions reflected in his face. "I never meant to hurt you." He is so busy being angry that he forgot she probably has been reading him all along. Her efforts to calm him down only arouse his anger even more though.

"Bollocks," he hisses, getting closer. "You knew this would hurt me once I found out about it. So, all the talk about you being a bad liar, that's just an act. I mean. That's a _lie_."

"Depends on the lie." Gillian is weeping freely, and Cal is aware that he shouldn't find comfort in the fact that his hurt is hurting her, but he does.

He sits down close beside her again and grabs her shoulders a little too rudely. She flinches. However, she doesn't back away from him as if she deserves it. It's a dangerous mixture. Trust, betrayal, hurt and a lot more beneath the surface.

"You should have told me. I could have lost you. We could both be dead by now. I understand that you didn't tell me back then. We didn't know each other. You wanted to protect me and my family. But now. It wasn't your decision to make. Perhaps I could have...," Cal isn't able to finish the sentence.

He feels her muscles tense, sees the change in her facial expression. Determination. As much as Gillian regrets what she had to do, she is not going to sit here and let him lecture her and interrupts him.

"So, it's your call whenever you consider it necessary to keep something from me or to take risks that may lead up to harming me, but my decision necessarily is irresponsible and wrong?"

Gillian refers to a former case. Cal went for the long con to catch a copycat killer. The man attacked her in the process. It is only one of many examples when he didn't let her in on something he decided to be the right thing to do or to omit.

"Maybe this time, Cal, I was the one who played cat and mouse," she confronts him with his own quote he once used as an argument why he had hidden something from her. That is was _cat_ and mouse not _cats_ and mouse. It hurt her deeply, and she won't let him get away with his double standards this time. "And you weren't invited because I considered it best for you. Now, tell me, how does it feel to be on the other side of the fence?"

He is still holding her shoulders; her hands have found their way to his chest, clenching his shirt, caught in the indecision whether to push him away or pull him closer. This is about much more than whether she withheld something from him or what it was or why she did it. It has turned not so subtly into a discussion about them and everything that is working well or – for the most part – going wrong between them lately. Her tendency to defy him is not entirely new, but she didn't have to make use of it in the past often. Save for the near past that is. He should be offended by her words. Yet, he isn't. Cal never told her. However, in his book, this behavior makes her even more desirable. Unfortunately, it shows in his face or perhaps he lets her see it deliberately. Nothing is a safe bet right now.

Gillian inhales sharply and lets go of his shirt. Since he doesn't let go of her shoulders, though, her attempt to back away fails.

"You're not serious," she accuses him, watching the arousal in his face disbelievingly. Dilated pupils. _Very_ dilated pupils, indeed. As if she was watching a classic stereotypical reaction.

"Oh, come on, Gillian," Cal retorts snidely. "You want full disclosure? You get full disclosure! Don't read me if you're not prepared for what you are going to see."

"But the line...," she offers lamely.

"The line," he hisses, "is history. We had the line because we were married. Both of us. First I got divorced. Then you. There is no reason anymore for the damn line. It's just you and me. _You_ and _me_."

"But...," Gillian doesn't know what to say.

What did she expect? Forgiveness? Acceptance? And even if he simply forgave her and they moved on, where would they go from here? Would they conveniently forget what happened in his office and even more so what almost happened? It's not possible; she knows as much.

"So, it's okay that you love me, but it's not okay that I want you?" Cal blatantly asks, leaving her speechless.

Their argument spins out of control so fast that she is completely taken aback. How does he know that she loves him? Gillian's breath is shattered although she has stopped crying due to her anger and confusion. Eventually, Cal relaxes his grasp and lets his hands drop into his lap. Perhaps it was stupid to tell her. Well, probably it was. He doesn't actually expect her to react. At least not here and now. Then again, Cal is known to be the one who takes risks, and despite their harsh words and the uncomfortable tension that still lingers on, the atmosphere seems to have cleared up. Like a sunny day after weeks of rain and mist.

"Get off your high horse, luv," Cal says tenderly. "I know you feel guilty because you didn't tell me. Yet, you are convinced it was the right decision. So, what's the difference between us? Neither of us want to hurt the other. And still, here we are, so damn successful in hurting each other either way."

For a brief moment, Gillian doesn't know to what he is referring that she didn't tell him. _It's okay that you love me, but it's not okay that I want you?_, his words are stuck in her mind. Then she realizes that he is referring to the whole Doyle scenario, of course. That's how their talk, argument, mutual confession started. Nevertheless, this issue, as important as it is, somehow has taken a backseat compared to what else has been brought to the surface.

"How do you know that I...," she hears her own voice, but it doesn't feel as if she is talking, and she can't bring herself to say it out loud. _How do you know that I love you?_

"Because I saw it in your eyes in the basement when they had drugged you. And don't...," Cal emphasizes vehemently, "...don't try to tell me that I saw it only because of the drugs."

"No, I wasn't about to say that," Gillian replies shakily. She wasn't. They are way beyond the point of denial. "I can probably put every reason why I did what I did down to this. Well, maybe not back then when we just met but...," her voice trails off.

"But it scares the shit out of you," Cal finishes her sentence.

"Not my choice of words but yes," she admits, avoiding his eyes. She has already bared her soul. No reason to let him look right into it.

"It scares the shit out of me, too, luv," he says. "If somebody asked me why we have been dancing around the subject for so long, I would have no answer to that."

It is all very emotional but also intense, and Cal's arousal is still there. His gaze can't help dropping to her lips, and he finally gives in and touches her mouth gently with his thumb. Textbook psychology. He wants to kiss her badly but doesn't dare to go through with it.

Gillian's breathing gets fitfully, and her tongue slips out to moisten her lips.

"Don't do that," he whispers hoarsely.

"I'm sorry," she also whispers, and he eventually manages to pull his gaze away from her lips.

When he looks at her, she looks back at him and lets him read her. He is blown away by what he sees. She loves him. She wants him. Yet, there are so many other emotions and this, here, is so far from being the right moment that there is only one logical decision. Anything else would be careless. Cal knows that Gillian is so spent emotionally and physically that she probably won't stop him if he makes a pass at her now. He doesn't want it to happen like this though. Not because her shield is abrogated.

"Don't ever be sorry," he tells her, instead.

"Can we talk about the rest later?" she asks shyly. "You know, about you wanting to rip my clothes off and stuff."

It's an attempt to ease the mood, but he sees the insecurity in her eyes. Even if they touched on topics they have been avoiding for years, there is a lot more they haven't even touched on as yet. Most likely she tried to hide her feelings from him because she fears he doesn't reciprocate them. _Wrong, Dr. Foster_, Cal thinks, neither knowing nor questioning why he addresses her that way in his mind. Probably because this is the person he checks out at work every day. Dr Gillian Foster. The woman he loves.

"Of course, luv," he responds, noticing something else. Something his own emotional turmoil didn't let him see until now. She is exhausted and physically down. After all, she just was released from the hospital.

"Of course," Cal repeats, pulling her close and blocking every inappropriate thought that comes to his mind when he hugs her body to himself.

"Are we okay?" Gillian mumbles wearily, needing the assurance.

"We are," he confirms.

This is about trust and friendship. The rest has to wait for now.

* * *

**Writing Callian is really special and so much fun.**

**Thank you for reading & reviewing.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This is kind of a transitional chapter. So, don't expect the creepiness or emotional intensity of the previous chapters. This is more about building the foundation for Callian. Cal has a lot to make up for, and Gillian has a lot to come to terms with. Furthermore, I decided to use a subplot here I originally intended to keep for a one- or twoshot. It starts at the end of this chapter and serves as a trigger to finally make them deal with their feelings (sorry, not in this chapter yet, even if they are already getting closer...). I'm not stalling, but I want to make this as realistic as possible. Just sayin'. ;)

I know I say it each time, but I'll keep saying it: Thank you very much for your support and the reviews (and as always this includes the reviewers without an account I can't get back to personally – Kam, Artemis & Guest).

So amazed that there are still new people joining in. If we keep this going, Callian will never die. This is a fantastic fandom!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Otherwise, there would be at least 10 seasons of this perfect show and so many more unforgettable Callian moments on screen.

* * *

They are standing on the line. The invisible line they defined years ago. Cal might have said that the line is history, but they have been living with it for so long that it is simply not possible to respect it one day and ignore it the next. So, here they are. Watching each other, circling around each other. Metaphorically speaking, of course. In real life, they are almost back to normal. Almost.

* * *

_Cal slept on her couch that night when he had come to her and they had ended up on her couch, confessing, nearly kissing (again) and all that. It wasn't humanly possible for Gillian to prompt him to leave. Emily was still in Europe. There was no one waiting for him. Hence, he stayed._

_He woke up in the middle of the night because of Gillian's muffled screams. A nightmare. Cal had witnessed that happening once or twice when she had been at the hospital. The desperate pitch of her voice tugged at his heartstrings. In the dark, he found his way to her bedroom and only hesitated briefly before he pushed open the door that was ajar. He actually had expected it to be closed or even locked and was pleasantly surprised. She had known that it was more likely than not that she would have a nightmare, and by leaving her door ajar, she had practically given him permission to comfort her. _

_Gillian was asleep, tossing and turning under the covers. He sat down at the edge of the bed and gently touched her arm, stroking it gently, uncertain whether this would scare and wake her and do more harm than good. She stirred slightly but didn't wake up._

"_Everything's okay," he mumbled, "I'm here." Cal had comforted Emily that way countless times as a child, and it seemed to work here and now just the same. Gillian calmed down, no more tossing and turning, and breathed deeply._

_Cal remained where he was even after she was sound asleep again. He couldn't see her in the dark, barely made out her contours under the covers. But he was so close to her that he could feel her body heat, and it simply felt good and right to be there with her. It was the only place in the world he wanted to be. When he was certain that her nightmare wouldn't come back to haunt her, he made sure that she was tucked in, caressed her hair tenderly and went back to sleep on the couch. _

_He left before she woke up. It was part of their arrangement. She had agreed to let him stay the night, and as a quid pro quo, he had agreed to let her have time to herself on Sunday. _

Since I agreed to let you have a day without smothering, call me if you need me. I will call you, anyway. - _He left the note clearly visible on the table. Of course, Gillian didn't call him, or more precisely, Cal gave in first and called her. Friendship and trust had gotten them beyond a betrayal that he still considered wrong and she still considered necessary. But it was past. Not forgotten. Yet, forgiven and understood. They talked some more on the phone and came to the understanding that it was too soon to address the rest. Love. Want. What one more time almost had happened between them. It was their possible future. Not forgotten either, and they both were eager to define it. But not yet. It was too soon. Gillian had too much to come to terms with first._

* * *

_She came back to work on Monday, as announced, and judging from her outward appearance everything was fine. Perfect even. Tight skirt. High heels. Pink lipstick. She apparently didn't intend to let any sign of weakness show. Despite the fact that she looked gorgeous as usual, Cal, for once, wasn't interested in that, though, didn't feel the urge to check her out. He was focused on nothing but her face. _

_It irritated her until she realized the reason for it. Concern. Genuine, unselfish concern that was very unlike Cal – at least in its purity and for extended periods of time. That was when she started to tell him about her nightmares and what she remembered about the hallucinations. Every once in a while, she came into his office after work when it was late and they were the only ones left. Sometimes they sat on the couch, cuddled up; sometimes he sat behind his desk and she simply sunk into a chair. Their closeness was always there either way because Cal listened to her, really listened. For a change, he was the one to give and she was the one to get, and they both indulged in their reversed roles. _

_It isn't an astounding revelation that she means a lot to him, maybe everything, but it's also not an astounding revelation that he rarely treats her accordingly. At least he hasn't recently. Rather the opposite is true. Almost losing her put everything in perspective. Second chances are not a given. Cal isn't going to screw this up._

* * *

So, here they are. Four weeks later. Almost back to normal. Gillian is not bleary-eyed and slimmed down anymore. She sleeps, she eats, and she talks to him. In return, Cal has started to check her out again. Nevertheless, things are only almost back to normal because they both are highly aware that there is something else they have to deal with. They can't stall it forever.

Right now, they are in Cal's office, standing in front of his huge screen, discussing a case and analyzing micro expressions. He checks her out completely oblivious to the fact that she sees it. Old news. What's new, though, is that she doesn't ignore it as she used to do but says it right out in the open.

"Enjoying the view?" she teases him.

"What?" He fakes innocence so badly that they both have to laugh.

"Concentrate on the case, Cal," she half cautions him and half giggles. "Don't speculate what kind of saucy lingerie I'm wearing. Study the micro expressions, not me."

_Saucy lingerie_. Cal can't help it, his imagination running wild just as she knew it would when she said it. Gillian enjoys this. She always enjoyed that he devoured her with his eyes, but it's different now that she knows his attraction to her is not just teasing. It's serious. He wants her. However, when they talked on the phone on that Sunday after he had slept on her couch, Cal made abundantly clear that Gillian's healing process, physical and mental, is his priority and that whatever will or will not happen between them is up to her. So, maybe the time of waiting is over and she upped the tempo a moment ago.

Cal is aware that Gillian has this subtle seductiveness. It's only a slight change in her body language, a slight change in her tone of voice, but it's the difference between flirting and making him shiver with excitement. She knows _exactly_ how to do this to him, has been knowing it for years, is doing it deliberately here and now.

Cal walks to his desk to sit down behind it, and Gillian follows him right into his personal space. This is new too. She never would have done that in the past. At least not when she was sober. She faces him, leaning against his desk, shifting her hip a little so that she almost sits on it, causing her already high-slit dress to show even more of her thigh in the process. Cal raises an eyebrow.

"Testing my willpower, luv?"

She laughs. It's a happy, light-hearted laughter he absolutely adores and never gets tired of. These moments are getting more and more frequent. They are simply comfortable with each other, approaching the line. Sometimes, on a day like today, they easily cross it for a brief moment, at least verbally, but for now they keep going back to their respective sides of the line.

Just when Cal ponders on how to prolong this delicious moment while leaving it up to Gillian how far she wants to go, there is a knock on the door and Loker comes in. Cal sighs annoyed. Will Loker ever learn it? Once again, he didn't wait until Cal asked him in. Well, at least he knocked this time. Oblivious to Cal's annoyance due to the unwelcome intrusion, Loker tries to bite back a smirk when he catches sight of Cal and Gillian so close together, their body language in full flirting mode.

"Yeah, got it," Cal comments defensively. "What's so urgent?" He is even more agitated than usual, can't wait to be alone with Gillian again.

"Remember the Miller case?" Loker asks conspiratorially.

The Miller case is not really the _Miller_ case. It's an oh-so-top-secret case that they came up with this ridiculous code. A politician who might or might not have had too much fun with too young women or rather girls. Unfounded rumor or skeleton in the closet? His party needs to know before he is nominated for a political office. His reputation as a womanizer proves difficult enough already, but his extraordinary charisma always made up for that in the past. Matters are complicated by the fact that _Mr. Miller_ is extremely hard to read, apparently was coached and controls his micro expressions perfectly.

When they discussed the best way to approach this case, they concluded that their best and maybe one and only chance is to observe and read the man at home. In his familiar surroundings, he will hopefully let his guard down and let them eventually see something so that they will be able to convict or exonerate him. The challenge is how to get in, and the solution actually is easy. A woman. Basically, any woman will do because he has no specific type other than that she has to be pretty. Torres wasn't happy to be the chosen one, but she eventually agreed with it. They did some research, briefed her, and now, everything is ready for the big meeting tonight. Tight dress and pocket camera included. They will watch and listen. The man isn't known to be dangerous so there doesn't seem to be a risk aside from having to do a little role play. Get in. Get him to show at least some micro expressions. Get out. Analyze the records. Present the findings to their client. Collect the paycheck. Close the case. Piece of cake.

Save that it's not.

Eli is grinning like an idiot. He has something to tell Cal that he is enjoying beforehand way too much.

"Loker," Gillian says warningly, sensing that Cal is short of reaching his boiling point. Patience is not one of his virtues.

But Eli is caught up in his anticipation. "Remember when we were told that Miller has no specific type?" he talks to Cal but glances cautiously at Gillian at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah," Cal responds, gesturing dismissively as if Loker is merely an annoying person. Just now, that's what Eli Loker probably is according to Cal Lightman. He wants him out of the room. And he doesn't like the implication of Loker's quick glance at Gillian. At all.

"It was a false information," Loker states triumphantly. They received the information from one of Miller's staff members. A _female_ staff member. Turned out she is one of the few women, albeit pretty, Miller rejected because she is not his type. That being the reason why she claimed he has no type even he has one. A quite specific type, indeed, as Loker explains, getting nervous and glancing at Gillian again.

"What's up with the glancing at Foster?" Cal interrupts him impatiently, sensing danger ahead, and, oh, how his instinct will prove to be true.

"Blond or light brown hair, blue eyes, and preferably an academic degree," Loker says matter-of-factly. "That's his type. And pretty, of course," he adds, smiling at Gillian who has straightened herself and turned around, eying him doubtfully. This is a course of events she didn't expect.

"So, it's a good thing you are that too. Pretty, I mean," Eli finishes his remarks, addressing Gillian directly and slightly blushing. At least she has to give credit to him for being uncomfortable with the subject when he is talking directly to her. He enjoys to tease Lightman because he knows he will have a hard time seeing her with another man, but he doesn't want Gillian to do anything she is not comfortable with.

Cal jumps up, an angry bundle of energy and barely withheld contempt. "Bloody hell," he spits, "Foster isn't going to play bait."

"Torres was going to, why not Dr. Foster? She is his type to a T, and there is no one else who can do this on such a short notice," Loker argues with more courage than he actually feels, aware that it's best not to tangle with Cal when it comes to Gillian.

It's a legitimate question. Why not? Of course, Cal has only one reason. Because it's her. In the end, though, it's not his decision to make.

"I'll do it."

Gillian's steady voice breaks the silence. She is standing so close to Cal that he would have heard her if she whispered. Anyway, his head spins around, and he stares at her as if he didn't get it right. She didn't just say what he thinks she said, now, did she?

* * *

**I hope you don't mind the cliffhanger too much – thought that Gillian's date with _Mr. Miller_ deserves an own chapter.**

**Next: More flirty Gillian and jealous Cal. I'm already eager to write it...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** The idea is to finish the story before Christmas. If it works out as planned, there will be two more chapters. Just so you can plan your Christmas preparations and holidays around reading & reviewing. ;)

I love to read your witty, constructive and kind comments and can't thank you enough for it. Since I can't respond to the guest reviewers personally, this is the usual shout-out to you Kam, xo870 & whoever reviewed just as "guest".

So, here is flirty Gillian and jealous Cal. Be prepared for things getting a little... tense...

Rating for language and content.

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, this would have totally happened on-screen. Since they aren't, it happens here.

* * *

Gillian is enjoying this way too much, Cal decides. He has to pull himself together not to growl at her image that is displayed larger than life-sized on the screen. As if he needs a reminder of the importance of her role in his life. Maybe he actually growled once or twice, but, honestly, how is he supposed to watch her flirt and flutter her eyelashes and not react at all. Contrary to popular belief he is human.

The portable mini camera in her clutch is pointed directly at _Steven_. Of course, she calls him by his first name. This is a date. He is not a politician tonight but a man, meeting up with an attractive woman. One of the members of his staff arranged the alleged blind date with Dr. Gillian Sanders. They changed her last name just in case he would do some research beforehand; no need to let him know that she is Dr. Cal Lightman's partner and that they are experts in revealing lies. It wouldn't have been necessary though. Either he trusts his staff unconditionally or he simply doesn't care who she is as long as she fits his type. And fit his type she does; Cal could tell even with his eyes closed. The man is in full flirting mode. He doesn't want to go home alone tonight and the mere thought makes Cal want to growl again even if this is the purpose of their dinner – to get Gillian into his house and to make the politician spill all his secrets, verbally or non verbally, as soon as he is in his familiar surroundings.

Loker installed another camera in the restaurant that is pointed at their table (Steven is a regular and always gets his favorite table), recording both of them. Cal changes the angle a little bit so that he has a better look at Gillian's face, aware of Torres and Loker who are standing right beside him. He has to trust them to catch the significant expressions of the politician immediately and will watch the video feed later to recheck. Right now, he just can't stop watching her and the fact that she is dressed up and looking even more beautiful tonight than usual doesn't make it any easier. Cal doesn't have to pretend. Torres and Loker know, and better yet, they won't dare to address it.

This doesn't mean, though, that they don't dare to exchange glances behind his back when they think he won't notice it. Too bad that they are not aware he actually _has_ eyes in the back of his head. Or it could be one of the hidden cameras they know nothing about that is streaming only to his smartphone.

"What's up with the smug smile, Torres?" Cal asks, causing Ria to startle. "Forgot you still have to make up for forgetting to call Emily?" When Cal left the office to look for Gillian right after the explosion, he told Torres to call Emily and assure her that he was fine, but in the middle of everything Ria forgot to do that. Fortunately, Emily was unaware of everything that had happened when Cal called her later. Yet, Ria made a mistake and since it involved Emily, the only reason Cal forgave her at all was because she had saved his and Gillian's life.

The smirk on Torres' face fades and she concentrates on the politician while Loker can't stop grinning. Sometimes they are as thick as thieves and sometimes they grudge each other anything. Today is probably a day somewhere in the middle.

"Same goes for you, Loker," Cal adds. "Just because I let you get away with running errands for Foster and hanging out in bars with her doesn't mean I won't fire you, anyway." Cal knows those things and Loker knows he knows even if they didn't talk about it and even if Cal doesn't plan to ever make good for it. He may talk it through with Gillian one day. Loker's involvement is one of the few things they haven't discussed as yet. That's a completely different matter though. Regarding Loker, it's only potential for throwing him off balance as it is now.

Like Ria, Eli focuses on the politician and silence fills the room, interrupted only by the animated conversation that takes place on-screen while Gillian and Steven are wining and dining and laughing.

What bothers Cal most is that not only Gillian is Steven's type, no, on top of it all, the smart politician is also exactly _her_ type. Tall, good-looking, successful, intelligent and yet with enough rough edges to make him interesting rather than too perfect and boring. Like Alec, her ex-husband or Dave, the undercover cop. She loved both men and they both broke her heart in one way or the other; Cal knows as much. But a type is a type and the heart is usually quite resistant to learn from past mistakes. He is worried that Gillian will fall for the man's charms no matter how professional she tries to behave.

On the other hand, right now, he wouldn't call her behavior professional because it's time for dessert and Gillian is well known for indulging in her favorite dessert. According to the menu, it is a fancy French something. Howsoever, it has to be chocolate pudding because Cal recognizes the sounds she makes eating it. These sounds are reserved solely for this special dessert and go straight to his groin whenever she eats it – mostly as breakfast, but that's another story. Anyway, this is the reason why he makes sure there is always enough chocolate pudding in the fridge of their office.

In the restaurant, dinner comes to an end. If Steven had last doubts about inviting her to his home, they were for sure wiped out over dessert. His pupils are so dilated they are almost black, and for once, Cal studies his face and not Gillian's. Probably Torres and Loker are smirking again behind his back, but he doesn't care. Cal knows it is part of their plan that Gillian has to go home with him. He also knew he wouldn't like it; he just didn't expect the intensity of his dislike. Anger is filling him up more and more. Cal is angry with the ridiculously good-looking politician for spending the evening with Gillian, with Gillian for seemingly, or worse apparently, enjoying her date, with himself for allowing it to happen in the first place.

And this is only the beginning.

* * *

Steven and Gillian walk outside. Their cars are pulled up and they are standing next to her car, her clutch on the car top in an effort to catch at least some of his facial expressions. The camera has no night vision, though, and despite the street lights, the video feed is rather dark compared to the indoor shots. Moreover, Steven turns around and kind of blocks Gillian's way to get in the car so that they are basically staring at the big black nothingness that is his back, coat, whatever.

Torres, Loker and Cal listen to them exchanging polite words about the nice evening that are loaded with the subtext that they want to leave together. _She's only doing her job, playing a role_, Cal tries to tell himself, but the nagging question is there. _Now, is she? Or does she really enjoy this as much as it seems?_ They shift their positions slightly, but still there is not much more to see – Steven's shoulder, a strand of Gillian's hair. It's quite breezy. Therefore, they can't hear every word, just fragments of their dialogue and then, suddenly, a brief pause before he leans forward and... oh, no, she can't be serious.

Cal sees a strand of Gillian's hair again, but it's too close, much too close, to the man's face. They are kissing. He kisses her, or she kisses him. Either way, Cal can't believe this is happening. He should have expected it to happen at some point this evening. Anyway, he didn't or maybe he simply forbade his imagination to go there. Then it's over; they shift positions one more time and Cal can see Gillian's face for the split of a second when she pulls away, the light of a street lamp illuminating it. There are moments when Cal curses that he is able to read micro expressions and this is definitely one of them. If not at the top of his list because what he sees written all over her face is arousal.

"Christ, Foster," he mumbles. The anger Cal thought he felt before was nothing compared to the blind rage he is feeling now. She is not supposed to do this, let alone feel this, with another man. Not when he is supposed to be the one kissing her.

Torres and Loker don't dare to breathe and rightfully so.

"Don't say a word," Cal hisses, meaning it.

No matter whether Gillian enjoyed the kiss or not, it was probably necessary as part of the role play to get her into his house. However, what should be a success feels like a failure, and for once, Cal knows that neither Ria nor Eli feel the slightest need to smirk.

On-screen, the pictures are even more blurry because they have gotten in their respective cars and Gillian set the clutch aside on the passenger seat, the camera pointed at the dark footwell.

Cal leaves the room, already calling her on his way out. He is aware that Torres and Loker will hear her responses, but going out gives him the needed illusion of privacy.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks instead of a greeting when she picks up. Cal doesn't even try to hide his anger.

"Getting into his house," Gillian responds patiently. "Acting accordingly to our plan."

It is so rational, so logical. Yet, to Cal it sounds as if she is talking to him in a foreign language.

"Don't remember our plan affording that much physical commitment," he comments sarcastically.

"Stop it, Cal," she sighs, but he hears the insecurity. Gillian is struggling with the situation and Cal starts to wonder whether this is getting out of control, whether he set her up unwittingly with a man she is interested in against her better judgement because he is the target of their investigation.

"What do you think he expects to happen next?" he all but accuses her.

"I'm going to hang up now," she says and suits her action to the word.

When he comes back into the room, it is dead silent. Loker and Torres stare at the screen that is still showing blurry pictures. Anyway, they all hear Gillian's annoyed sigh loud and clear.

* * *

Cal hates everything about the man. He usually doesn't quarrel with his height, but this guy looks like the front page model of a magazine. And he has his hands all over Gillian. They are in his study and he is yapping on and on about the research for his latest article, touching her in between occasionally. As attracted as Gillian may be to him, there is no way she is not bored and sees right through it as a ploy to impress her intellect as much as her...

_Can we talk about the rest later? _He remembers her voice, shaky and vulnerable. _You know, about you wanting to rip my clothes off and stuff. _He wanted to rip off her clothes so bad that night, but he didn't act on it. Nevertheless, he was pretty sure that he would be the next man ripping Gillian Foster's clothes off. Here and now, he is not so sure about that anymore. He is no voice expert, but she sounds very much as if she is really enjoying this, the lines between doing her job and adapting the role play as her reality blurring more and more. Her purse with the camera is lying on his desk. _On his desk._ Cal's stomach turns, vivd images coming to his mind what almost happened on the desk in his office. If she dares to let this guy push her down on his desk...

Sometimes Gillian and Steven are within the range of the camera; sometimes they only hear their voices. From Cal's point of view, it is almost unbearable either way. Foster is doing a pretty pissy job; they will get nowhere with all of this save that she had a nice evening.

"She is clever," Loker's statement interrupts his bitter thoughts and Cal's first reaction is to take a deep breath and give him a piece of his mind just when Torres chimes in.

"Yeah, she is," she says concentrated and Cal pauses to think.

She is? He may constantly antagonize Ria and Eli. Yet, he values them and their estimation even if he rarely admits it. Cal watches and listens some more and tries to see and hear what is there and not what he imagines. _Where are his hands?_ _Why did she laugh?_ And he has to reluctantly admit that they are right. With subtle hints and questions, Gillian directs the conversation to his alleged interest in young women, perhaps even minors, and whenever Steven moves out of the range of the camera, she does something to get him back there. It's not easy. She cannot readjust her clutch all the time to get a better video feed. It would be too obvious.

Cal calms down and tries to focus. He can't get a good look at her face anymore, and maybe she does this on purpose after his not so nice phone call, but her body language and voice give away that she likes this no matter how much of it is actual role play. The longer she is alone with him, the more difficult it becomes to keep him at bay. His passes at her get more blatant. His hand, that only briefly touched her back or arm before, touches her waist or her hip now, lingers longer. Then he turns around, seemingly to show her something, and they are standing next to each other right in front of the camera. He raises a hand as if he wants to take a book out of the shelf, but his hand softly grabs her neck instead. It's a very trained, effortless move and Cal almost is impressed. Wouldn't it be Gillian that is. If he kisses her again, he is dead. But just when he is about to do exactly that, Gillian puts a hand against his chest, softly pushing him away from her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I don't think I should do that."

It's over. They have enough video material to form a valid opinion. As far as Torres and Loker can tell so far, the rumors are only that – rumors. This man never did something that involved minors. The case is a success. Save that it isn't because when Gillian told Steven that she shouldn't do that, shouldn't kiss him, her voice and body language said the opposite.

On-screen, Loker and Torres see and hear Gillian politely say goodbye. It is an awkward situation at best, but the politician is a gentleman in spite of his wishful thinking being destroyed rather abruptly, accepting her decision without questioning it, simply walking her out. Cal doesn't even watch anymore. He is already on the way to his car.

* * *

The residence of the politician isn't far away from their office, but somehow Cal knows that Gillian won't come back to the office and head for home instead. _Trying to avoid a scene, Gill, aren't we?_ the nasty voice in his head hisses. He is aware that he has no right to be mad at her, at least not _that_ mad. She was supposed to flirt. So, what's the big deal? But the big deal is everything and he accelerates even more, spotting her car.

Without thinking, he overtakes and then brakes, forcing her to slow down to avoid a crash. Despite the unforeseen maneuver, her car comes to a halt at the sidewalk as if she neatly parked it there on purpose. This is Foster. Always in control.

In the rearview mirror, he sees the scared look on her face and almost regrets his rash action. Then she recognizes his car and her facial expression matches his. Anger. Nevertheless, when she sees him approach her car, she unlocks the door. Big mistake.

"Get out and get in my car," he all but yells at her, tearing open the door and at the same time turning around again, walking back to his car that is standing right in the middle of the street. This is Lightman. More often than not on the verge of lunacy.

Cal is aware that he behaves like a bugger. It's a mystery to him why Gillian sometimes bothers with him and he almost expects her not to follow him, but then he hears her light steps on the pavement behind him, the clicking of her heels that are even higher than usual. She gets in his car without saying a word.

He drives, just drives. Everything else would be too complicated or too simple. The scent of her perfume fills the car and makes him dizzy. He can avoid looking at her all he wants, the scent invades every fiber of his body, anyway, reminding him that she is here with him. In the confined space of his car. Within touching distance.

"Cal..."

Just his name. No accusation. No plea. Just a statement. He kind of ordered her to get in his car. Now, what does he want? He can't think straight, but he knows for sure that he doesn't want her to be patient or understanding. For once, he doesn't want her to be the perfect psychologist he is working with day in, day out. Cal wants Gillian to be as confused and angry as he is. She behaved so differently with this man. Granted, she flirts more with him, too, lately, but they know each other. She didn't know this man until today, though, and she already kissed him while he is still waiting for their first kiss.

"Cal..."

His name again but with a hint of impatience this time. He snorts. Getting there. _Are you human like the rest of us, after all, Foster?_ the nasty voice in his head won't keep quiet. For some reason, he can't stop thinking of her car that is parked neatly at the sidewalk. Is there anything she does that is not deliberate and oh-so-perfect? Oh, yes, wait, there is, such as kissing a total stranger.

Obviously, Gillian is done with trying to get through to him with words and opts for actions instead. Her hand touches his thigh, and suddenly, the space of his car seems to be too confined to drive and feel her touch at the same time. Cal hits the brakes. The car almost spins out of control but eventually comes to a halt. They are in a dark, empty side street and Cal's car is not parked as neatly at the sidewalk as hers. Then again, there is probably nothing he can ever do as neatly as she.

He unbuckles and turns to see her face on. Gillian also turns to look at him, but she leaves her safety belt in place as if it protects her from him. Cal briefly wonders if she is aware what she is doing, and moreover, why she most likely is doing it. Is he really such a danger to her?

"What the hell was that?" he asks with a snarl.

There is nothing else he can think of to say. He refers to the flirting and the kissing and she understands without any further explanation. Of course.

"Maybe I wanted to get back at you for knocking me out in the basement," her words are meant to banter with him, but her voice tells him something else entirely. Nothing that happened tonight did happen because she wanted to get back at him.

Even if Gillian is looking at Cal, her eyes and most of her face are in the shadow. How convenient. This way, he can't read her, can't tell what is going on. He is way beyond pretending he doesn't try to read her. She may be his blind spot, but that doesn't mean he can't spot things here and there.

"I don't think I even remotely hurt you as much when I knocked you out as you hurt me tonight," Cal states brutally honest.

He is pretty sure that she can see everything in his face, doesn't make the slightest attempt to hide it. His anger. His hurt. How much he wants her and how much she means to him.

"Cal," Gillian says again but this time with a longing and intensity that sets his teeth on edge. Rational thinking is miles away.

"Is there anything you can say besides my name?" he confronts her rudely, aiming to hurt her just as she hurt him. Actually, everything hurts right now.

"No. I can't say anything else," Gillian whispers, "because I couldn't think of anything else during the whole evening. All I could think of was you."

He doesn't understand. There she was flirting with this guy and here she is telling him that... She increases the pressure of her hand, shifting it still higher, and he puts his hand on hers to stop her. She is too close. She may think this is a good idea to calm him, but it isn't. Not in the least. In fact, if she shifts her hand some more, she will know for sure how much this doesn't calm him.

"Not a good idea, luv," Cal points out almost tenderly even if his anger and hurt are still there. "Don't do that if you intend to soothe me."

"Who says I want to do that?" Gillian whispers and there is no way he can mistake this tone of voice. This is pure seduction.

She shifts her hand again. Just a little, but it's enough to make his thoughts run wild, enough to release her hand and give up the idea to stop her without further ado.

"Wait...," he stutters, anyway, even if he wants her to do anything but. What is she doing? Less than an hour ago, it seemed as if she was interested in another man while this...

"All I could think of was you," she repeats insistently as if he is a stubborn child and refuses to listen. Her voice caresses his skin like silk or velvet. He has no words to describe it appropriately, is completely mesmerized, his eyes magnetically drawn to her lips. "His hands...were your hands...his lips...were your lips..."

And it finally sinks in. The arousal he saw on her face wasn't there because she wanted the other man; it was there because she knew he was watching. _All I could think of was you._ Gillian was thinking of him when she kissed the other man, whenever he touched her.

She moves sidewards so that he can eventually see her face, her eyes. And what he sees there takes his breath away. The same arousal he saw there earlier tonight but exponentiated many times over. Primal lust. He is no religious man but dear Lord, have mercy or rather simply thank you. Thank you very much, indeed.

Her hand leaves a trail of fire on his skin even though she is merely touching him through the fabric of his pants. She shifts her hand some more and if she ever had doubts whether he wants her, she has undeniable proof now.

It's not gentle, not at all, and the rational part of his brain tells him that he probably should be more patient. On the other hand, she doesn't seem to mind. His lips collide with hers and he tastes and sucks and worships and she joins in, being a worthy opponent so to speak.

"You have no idea how much I want you," Cal mumbles, struggling for air.

"Oh, believe me, I have," Gillian admits, squeezing his thigh softly, and even in the darkness he can see that she is blushing.

In terms of touching, she is way ahead of him. He has to shorten the distance.

His hands found their way on their own accord to her neck and into her hair when they were kissing. He lets one hand drop to her thigh and is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that she is wearing no pantyhose. Well, maybe he was wrong believing she is a good girl. What happened and still happens tonight show him a side of her he has never seen before. Hints perhaps but never that distinctly.

They way she is sitting, Gillian's legs are pressed together rather tightly. He lets his fingers dance over her skin, anyway, until his hand disappears under her dress, his thumb between her legs. She tenses up and holds her breath, but she doesn't move otherwise and Cal can feel the heat between her legs even if he didn't even touch her there. Tonight, she is definitely not a good girl.

"God, Cal," she closes her eyes and he realizes that she won't stop him. She will let him do anything he wants, probably even won't stop him if he goes for it right here in the car. The mere thought turns him on still more. Then again, he wants adequate space and lighting for what they are about to do.

"Car or bed?" he asks her breathlessly. The decision seems to be too difficult to make it on his own.

"I don't care as long as you're in it," she replies without hesitation before she unbuckles and all but lunges at him, closing the distance between them to kiss him again.

* * *

**Writing jealous Cal and flirty Gillian was so much fun. Then again, writing Callian is always fun.**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** This chapter is kind of shadow and light. You will understand what I mean when you read it. I re-wrote the last part a gazillion times and eventually decided that this is the final version. Therefore, I hope it doesn't disappoint and you enjoy it.

Rating due to language and content. Nothing explicit here (and why do I almost feel as if I have to apologize that there isn't...). Yet, there are some references to, um, physical Callian interaction; so, I guess it's a strong T or even a moderate M just to be on the safe side.

Thank you for your reviews. As usual, this also goes for the guest reviewers I can't thank via FFN or Twitter (silviaa29 & "guest"). I hope you all keep on reviewing and sharing your thoughts because I've really come to depend on it.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Zip. If I did, LTM would be in its – what? fifth? – season by now.

* * *

In the end, it is neither the car nor the bed.

Cal convinces Gillian to drive to her place since they are halfway there, anyway. As tempting as it is to just continue... _this_ in the car, it reminds Cal too much of meaningless encounters with other women and this is supposed to be different. So, her place is the place to be because Emily is back from Europe and there is no way Cal can imagine going past his daughter, taking Gillian to his bedroom. Not that Emily wouldn't appreciate it, but knowing that his daughter is next door or even in the same house would kind of kill the mood tonight.

Gillian has a heyday distracting him, touching and kissing and doing whatever has to be considered a dangerous interference of road safety, but she doesn't seem to care. It is him, Cal Lightman, the risk taker, who has to tell the woman who usually would have instructed him to concentrate on driving to buckle up. Twice. Still, she doesn't comply and he finally gives in and locks her safety belt in place while she is giggling and humming and smelling oh-so-good.

She almost appears to be drunk although he knows that the two glasses of wine she had earlier this evening are not nearly enough to cause such a behavior. No, she is not drunk; she is intoxicated by him, by them, and this, in turn, makes him shiver with excitement.

He should have known they wouldn't make it to the bed.

Whenever Cal imagined this happening, he imagined a slow dance of seduction, imagined her to be hesitating so that his hands had to convince her to give in, to let go. In reality, their roles are reversed. She is not uncertain or reluctant at all. There is only a brief moment of hesitation after she unlocked the door and they are standing in the dimness of her house. It is overwhelming how familiar and at the same time strange it all is. Cal knows her furnishings, knows the pleasant smell of her house. Yet, it is different and about to change even more.

"Are you sure of this?" she whispers and he almost has to laugh. Shouldn't he be the one asking her that?

All those years, all the tender hugs, the kisses on the cheek missing the lips only by millimeters. All those moments when they pretended they didn't want more. He always wanted more and still can't believe that she apparently felt the same, too. Maybe the entire time. All those years – wasted because two scientists were so busy exposing lies of others that they couldn't find the truth in themselves.

Is he sure of this? Bloody hell, yes!

Instead of an answer, he pulls her closer and kisses her.

The idea was to take the continuation of what they started in his car to her bed, and moreover, to take it slow. Turns out theory doesn't correspond to reality. The first surprise was that Gillian isn't reluctant; the second is that she doesn't take it slow.

Cal expects her to lead him to her bedroom, but she simply pushes him against the wall. Then she pulls his shirt up; her hands are on his skin and – again – she beat him touching-wise. Damn! Cal feels like an amateur. He is supposed to be the womanizer and seduce her not the other way around.

Their kissing is becoming more and more frenzied. They push and pull at their clothes until there is not much left that separates the heated skin of their bodies. He always knew she would look good in a silken thong and matching bra.

"Bed?" he manages to ask in between. That's the reason they drove here, right? Adequate space and lighting.

However, when she pushes her body against his and her lips find their way down his chest, caressing his skin, all thoughts are irrelevant. He is a scientist. There are moments in life, though, when thinking is clearly overrated. As is coherent speech.

Cal thought he knew Gillian inside out, but this night has some revelations to offer...

Dirty talk makes her laugh even if, in a moderate version, it seems to turn her on. All in all, though, she isn't the kind of woman who talks a lot during sex probably because she is so eloquent at work that she simply enjoys having not to talk sometimes.

The many ways she doesn't talk but shows him how much she enjoys this turn him on in a way he never would have thought possible. By the way, the assumption that he is a better lover because he can read micro expressions is utter bullshit. People who believe that never gave the logistics of making love a moment's thought. Granted, he uses his abilities to score with women. However, as soon as he is in bed with a woman, it's all about primal instinct and not about reading micro expressions – if only because often, and depending on the, let's say, variety of positions, it is nearly impossible to study the face. With Gillian, though, Cal considers to make an exception. If it wasn't so creepy, he would stare at her face whenever possible, just to catch this micro expression or that, just to see her eyes cloud with arousal, just to see her purse her lips when she teeters on the edge, just to know everything about her. He can't get close enough, not even when he is inside her.

She is a completely different person – here where it is only the two of them and their passion. Daring, almost reckless. Cal always suspected she has this hidden attribute because sometimes it shimmers through when she is angry, when someone provokes her, but she always brings it under control, puts her feelings on the back burner in favor of rational thinking and political correct behavior. Tonight, all this doesn't matter. She wants him and she isn't shy of it. Screw political correctness. Somewhere in between, Cal wonders whether she was like this with her ex-husband (somehow he doubts it) or with Burns (somehow he believes she was, at least to some extent, and the mere thought turns his stomach). She is still in control. At the same time, though, she lets control slip away so effortlessly as if she wasn't Ms. Perfection in real life. Cal knows that he will have a hard time looking at her at the office without completely losing it in the best possible way after he experienced this.

Gillian looks even better _without_ the silken thong and matching bra although it is color-coordinated with her couch (when the wall becomes a little too uncomfortable, this is the next best item of furniture where they end up). It has to be a coincidence. She couldn't possibly have planned this all along, could she? Cal files the information away to perhaps ask her about it later or perhaps he doesn't want to know. Some moments are perfect as they are.

At long last and despite their fierce love-making, she also likes it soft and lets him seduce her. The second time. This is when he finally gets more space and lighting because they make it to her bedroom. They are not anywhere near dirty talk this time. Instead, her whispers and moans enwrap him like a warm blanket and he knows, just _knows_, that all their fears and their hesitation were justified. If they don't make this work, if this gets taken away from them again, it will destroy them both. In a heartbeat.

* * *

She wakes up before him and remembers everything immediately. It's been a while since she has woken up with this sore, yet wonderful, feeling between her legs and a man lying next to her. And this is not any man. This is Cal. Gillian's pulse quickens. She regrets nothing, but the harsh morning light tends to put things into perspective.

They both enjoyed last night. Very much. But already she can almost hear her thoughts racing. _How will this affect our partnership? Our friendship? How can we make it work? _

She had her doubts whether he really wanted her, but he erased them all last night. Cal wants her. The mere thought makes her shiver. Yet, Cal is... Cal and the nagging question remains whether she will be enough – interesting enough, exciting enough. She will be here and now and for sure in the next weeks or even months but what about the next years? If this is only about their mutual physical attraction, it will fade away eventually or at least decrease. She holds her breath realizing that she is thinking of spending the rest of her life with him. Then again, it doesn't come as a surprise. This has always been what it all comes back to. Spending their lives together. Isn't that what they have been doing for the last eight years?

It's Saturday; they don't have to work and this is such a relief. She can't even begin to imagine the awkwardness of having to get dressed in a hurry and driving to the office. Let alone being there together, pretending nothing happened. They would pretend nothing happened, wouldn't they? She simply doesn't know. Then Gillian remembers that her car is still parked somewhere; she doesn't even know exactly where. There is a lot to sort out. She is glad the weekend buys them time to do so.

Gillian decides to get up, take a shower and make coffee. She can't leave Cal like that, though, and leans over to kiss him tenderly on his shoulder. He stirs and yawns lazily.

"Good morning, Dr. Foster."

Cal opens his eyes to look at her and laughs at what he sees. Quick breathing, flushed skin, dilated pupils.

"Really?" he banters. "That's all it takes to get you going?"

Her gaze caresses his skin and wanders down along his body. She raises an eyebrow. "Seems as if I'm not the only one."

Maybe shower and coffee can wait a little longer.

* * *

"So, this is what you do on a Saturday morning?" Cal asks Gillian, cupping his chin in his hand, smiling at her. "Reading the newspaper? Drinking coffee?"

She looks at him. They are sitting at her kitchen table and she is actually reading the newspaper or at least pretending to do so while he does nothing except staring at her. It is difficult for her to concentrate on the articles when he is so fixated on her. She is not really into breakfast, besides coffee that is, and has no supply of bacon and eggs at home that Cal would have liked to devour. So, just coffee it is for both of them.

When they sat down at the table, they were relaxed and in a good mood induced by the excitement of their new physical closeness. However, as the minutes pass by, something changes. Gillian wishes she could maintain the light-hearted feeling, but it is slipping away, being replaced by a feeling of confinement. Why does he have to be so demanding, staring at her the entire time? _Nah, I don't need anything to read. I'm perfectly fine_, he insisted when she offered to share the newspaper. Now, that they crossed the line, he won't stop until he knows everything about her. It is flattering, but at the same time it makes her skin crawl. Some of Cal Lightman's main character traits, his intensity and stubbornness, are difficult to handle on an ordinary day and will be even more so given the circumstances.

In a way, she always has been the center of his attention. Setting up a file on Burns or observing her and Loker are only a few examples. Gillian knows that she could tell him to back off a little and maybe he would even understand. Whether he would act on it, though, is a different matter altogether. Probably not. She tried it in the past and he rarely considered her feelings. If ever. She is reminded of his behavior during the last months and a wave of anger floods through her. Anger is the last thing she wants to feel right know, but she can't help it.

The silence is getting uncomfortable. It takes her much too long to answer. Cal already knows that her response won't be as easy-going as his question before she starts to speak.

"Is this what _you_ do on a Saturday morning? Reading people?" Gillian says irritated.

"You are deflecting."

"And you are...," she pauses. This is their first breakfast together and already it threatens to end in an argument. "...intense," she finishes her sentence.

"Annoying. Irritating. That's what you mean. Don't have to play nice just because you shagged me."

His smirk is irresistible. Their short battle of words represents everything she loves and hates about them. She loves their closeness, their ability to communicate without speaking even if she now and then tells him to use his words. She hates, though, that he sees right through her. Blind spot or not, he knows her better than anybody else and sometimes this makes her feel as if she has no place left she can call her own while he pushes her away and keeps her at distance whenever it pleases him. _Intense_ doesn't even begin to describe how she feels under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Whoa! What was that?"

And there it is. He saw right through her, comes probably pretty close with his assumption what she was thinking. Too close.

"Cal..." Gillian shakes her head and looks down, doesn't want to argue with him although her inner voice tells her that this argument is long overdue. She is a psychologist. She knows that she has been swallowing her anger far too long.

"I don't have to be here, Gill."

He is hurt, senses rejection and isn't sure why. She doesn't want him to hurt. They should be happy. Deliriously happy. But there is a missing link. Without resolving their issues, they can't connect their past with their present, can't connect who they were to each other with what happened last night.

"I want you to be here," she whispers, close to tears. "I want this, us, but it is too important to simply go for it without considering... some things first."

"Such as?"

Cal's hand touches her arm; she has put the newspaper away. Their coffee is probably cold by now.

_Such as you sleeping with every attractive woman that comes across your path. Such as you redlining me whenever it suits you. Such as me loving you when I don't know whether you actually love me, too. _Gillian still doesn't look at him and doesn't give voice to her thoughts either. It is too painful to admit all this.

"Don't do this, luv." His touch turns into a firm grip. "Seriously, Gill, ask me whatever you want, but don't give me the silent treatment. Don't shut me off. I've crossed the line. I'm on your side of the line and I'm not going back, not even if you ask me to."

If he ever has been receptive to listen to her, now is the time. _Come on_, she urges herself. _Tell him. Get it out of the way once and for all._

But it's even more difficult for her to confront him with it than before last night. There is so much more at stake and Gillian has become so used to his indifference and refusal that she almost can't believe he will listen to her and moreover understand. _He has changed_, she reminds herself. The Cal she has come to know during the last weeks is different from the person who ignored and rejected her too often in the past.

"As if I could ever ask you to go back," her voice is barely audible, her thoughts swirling.

"Then why the anger? Why the insecurity? You say you want us. Well, let me tell you, I want us, too. I've been wanting this, _you_, for so long. I was jealous when you were with Burns. I was jealous when you were in the bar with Loker. I was _insanely_ jealous when you dated that bugger last night. Bloody hell, I even was jealous of your husband when you were still married. There I said it. Confession time. Your turn."

Cal jumped to his feet and is standing right next to her, his breath hot on her skin, his hands touching her in between while he is talking and gesticulating. Gillian is flattered by his admission, he can tell by her faint smile, albeit her words qualify his statement.

"That's desire, Cal. I think we both are aware that the physical attraction between us has always been there. Right from the beginning. But we also both know that you are easily attracted to women and lose interest in them just as easily once you had them."

It is kind of a low blow, but it's the truth. And it's part of what is bothering her.

Cal clenches his teeth, his jawline protruding. He steps back and stares at her doubtingly.

"Now, you are pissing me off, Gill," he spits at her, doesn't care whether it is rude or not, wants her to see his hurt and anger.

"That," he points at her bedroom, "was desire. But this," he points at her, at them, "is something entirely different. If you were any other woman, do you really think I would still be here to talk it through with you? I would have been out of the door the moment you opened your mouth to speak because, as you phrased it not so nicely, if it's just about the physical attraction, I don't give a shit once I _had_ the woman."

She swallows and blushes, can't stand the look in his eyes. There is no way around this though. Cal is right; confession time it is.

"I don't mean to hurt you, Cal," Gillian says tenderly, trying to take the sharp edge off her words. "But the way you treated me sometimes was insufferable. You hurt me. More than once. Without giving it some thought." He flinches but doesn't interrupt her. Just listens. "I somehow managed to deal with it because we are friends and have to run a company together. But now, that things have changed, the imagination how it will feel if you hurt me again like this...," her voice trails off and she has to compose herself. "Now that we are..." She swallows again. "I won't be able to tolerate this kind of behavior anymore, meaning the next time you decide to act like this, there will be consequences. And these consequences will leave me with nothing, Cal. _Nothing_. Because now, that we are even closer, there is no place left that is solely my own, even not within me. And this scares me, Cal." He can see the tears in her eyes shimmering. "We can't go back. I don't want to go back, but I'm afraid where we will end up, where _I _will end up."

Gillian takes a deep breath. There. It's all out in the open.

"All this because I rather look at a beautiful woman than read the newspaper?" Cal asks, but his face tells her everything she has been waiting for.

He feels bad about how he treated her. Very bad. Cal understands, and much more important, he regrets what happened. The relief is almost overwhelming and Gillian can't stop some tears from falling just when he closes the distance between them to pull her into his arms.

"Forgive me, luv. Please forgive me. Will you? Can you?"

His raw, almost desperate, voice pleads with her. Yes, she can forgive him and she will. Easily – no matter how deeply he hurt her at that time. All it took was his realization how much he hurt her and his willingness to ask for her forgiveness.

"Apology accepted," she mumbles and feels his arms hold her even tighter.

"I probably will have to do this again, though, you know. Apologizing," Cal says after a brief pause and she pushes him away from her to get a better look at him.

"I don't want to," he clarifies, "but I probably will hurt you sometime in the future even if I don't intend to repeat my stupid mistakes from the past. None of them. Bugger that I was. _But_...," he emphasizes, "...people make mistakes. I will make mistakes. You will make mistakes. Meaning I will hurt you and you will hurt me. Unintentionally, I hope, but it will happen and it will kill me when you hurt me because the more you love the more it hurts."

Cal's hand caresses Gillian's face, tracing her jawline with one finger. Some strands of her hair are still wet from the shower. Without make-up and curly hair she looks younger and more vulnerable. She holds his gaze unwaveringly, letting sink in what he just told her. It's not just attraction, not just affection. He loves her. He apologized. The missing link. Maybe they will actually find a way to make this work.

"I won't always forgive you that easily," she teases him, already smiling again even if her cheeks are still wet from her tears. "You will have to come up with some extraordinary ideas to make it up to me."

She can literally see his beautiful mind thinking, coming up immediately with some ideas that will please her very much and would probably make her blush if he told her about them.

"Why don't we go out to have breakfast?" Gillian asks, snuggling into him. "Our coffee is cold, and this way, you can have your bacon and eggs."

"You're deflecting again," Cal reprimands her, but this time his statement is also meant to tease her and not as serious and full of underlying tension as it was earlier this morning.

He inhales the scent of her shampoo, of her skin, and his hands sneak under her top, relishing the curves of her body.

"Don't tell me you didn't read what I am thinking right now," he murmurs.

She laughs. His hands are still exploring her body and her laughter lets her body vibrate against his. When he hugs her to himself and kisses her, she feels his arousal and takes a deep breath. _Again? Really? _

"Will it be like this from now on?" Gillian asks and she is half serious, half joking. "Because we have to work occasionally, you know. To make a living. We can't always..." _give in to this overwhelming need to lose ourselves in each other. _

She looks at him and even if she was the one to ask, Cal can see that she is as aroused as he is. They are actually quite a pair.

"No, it won't," he says. "From now on, everything will be even better."

* * *

**So, are you smiling right now? If not, I did something wrong.**

**There are still some loose ends which I hope to fix in the next chapter.**

**Thank you for reading & reviewing.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** So, here it is, the final chapter. I tried to tie up the loose ends while having some funny, serious and heart-melting Callian moments.

There were fewer reviews for the last chapter in comparison and I hope this is due to the fact that everybody is already busy doing Christmas preparations and not due to a sudden lack of interest in the story. Insofar, a huge THANK YOU to those of you who reviewed the last chapter. I only found the time to get back to you today. So, check your inbox if you have a FFN account or if you haven't, like the kind guest reviewer Mateby, just know that you made me very happy.

I've definitely come to LOVE the LTM/Callian fandom even more while writing this story and I hope we all will be back in 2013 for more.

Rating due to language and content. This is Cal, after all.

**Disclaimer: **As much as I love the show and the characters – nope, still not mine. Damn!

* * *

"He's lying," Loker states as they are watching the video tape, studying the micro expressions.

"Damn straight," Torres confirms.

"Well, then," Cal chirps, "so be it. Case closed. We can all go home. Foster..." He turns to Gillian abruptly. "Do you have a minute? In my office?"

He walks out of the room without waiting for her reaction, leaving her no other option than to follow him after a brief nod toward Eli and Ria as acknowledgment that they are actually done with the case.

The moment Gillian closes Cal's office door behind her, she is pressed against it, feeling his lips on hers.

"So, what exactly is it you need to talk to me about?" she asks teasingly when he lets her gasp for air in between, well aware that _this_ is why he wants her here and nothing else.

"I don't know," he mumbles while his hands are already busy exploring the skin underneath her blouse. It is one of the rare days on which Gillian is wearing a blouse and a skirt instead of a dress and Cal blatantly takes advantage of it.

"Cal..." She softly pushes him away from her but can't help relishing his growl and the frustrated look on his face. "Remember the rule."

"No shagging in the office. Yeah... yeah... I remember," he says annoyed. "Now, tell me again. Why did we even bother to cross the line when we only replaced it by this stupid rule?"

"It's not stupid."

He hisses, stepping closer. They both love this game. He tries to break the rule; she brings him back down to earth. And if nothing else, every rule has exceptions. They broke their rule only once so far, but the possibility that it will happen another time is lingering on, providing even more attraction.

"It is," Cal whispers, his lips merely inches away from hers, his smile triumphant when her gaze drops to his lips. "Trouble concentrating?"

Gillian laughs and shakes her head, pushing him softly away again. Then she takes some small steps into the room to create a physical distance between them and break the spell. Yes, she has trouble concentrating whenever he is that near to her and he knows this damn well.

"What do you worry about? The door is locked; no one knows about us. They think we're arguing about the corporate finances as usual."

From her body language, Cal can tell that today won't be one of the exceptions. Yet, he isn't completely ready to give up the fight. She smells so sweet and her skin felt so soft when he touched her just moments ago. His hands are twitching; he can't wait to get them back underneath her blouse, doesn't want to wait until this evening.

"Oh, Cal!" Gillian sympathetically smiles at him. "You can't seriously believe that. Of course, they know. Everybody knows by now. Well, perhaps not everybody," she corrects herself, "but Loker and Torres definitely know."

"No, they don't!" Cal insists, leaving her speechless.

There is no way Eli and Ria could have missed the changes in chemistry between her and Cal. Their chemistry always has been sexually charged and the changes may be almost imperceptible. Still, they are there and Loker and Torres are that good. Therefore, they know. For crying out loud, even if Gillian didn't know herself, she would assume that she was sleeping with Cal. So, maybe Eli and Ria didn't tell the rest of the staff, or rather, _most likely_ they didn't tell the others because they accept and respect their privacy. It doesn't matter though. The rest of the staff probably supposes, anyway, that she and Cal have been together for years and only keep it a secret for the simple reason that they are the proprietors of The Lightman Group.

The night at her home was a couple of weeks ago. It's all still fresh and they haven't told anybody as yet. Well, except Emily that is (and Zoe, but that's another story). Somehow, it's heartwarming how blind Dr. Cal Lightman, expert in reading micro expressions, is when it comes to her. As much as Gillian indulges in his unabated hunger and need for her, though, the thought of what Loker and Torres may think every time Cal lures her into his office makes her feel uncomfortable. They are in charge, after all, and should behave professionally at least to some extent.

"You locked the door, Cal," Gillian tries once more. "And you think they don't notice what's going on?"

If Cal thought the whole thing through, of course, he would realize that she is right immediately. Perhaps he likes it this way. Pretending. Gambling. All the while knowing that he plays for keeps. They both do.

Right now, Cal gives up the idea that today will be another exception of their new rule. Gillian can see it in his eyes. She regrets it as much as he does. Then again, their resistance to give in to temptation only increases the thrill of anticipation what will happen tonight. She smiles at him seductively and notices that his hands start to twitch again as if they already trace the shape of her body. Something he for sure will enjoy to the fullest later as he always does.

He takes a deep breath and makes a face at her that reminds Gillian of his former, cute pug.

"So, there is this very interesting article about shafting." Only Cal is able to deliver such a line without even blinking. "Any chance you want to talk about that?"

* * *

"Foster? Do you have a minute? In my office?"

Gillian feels like having a deja-vu. After their last discussion about the new rule, line, whatever, that took place a week ago, Cal grudgingly has obeyed it. At least more or less.

Torres and Loker share a brief, secret smile that is not so secret in a room full of experts in reading micro expressions. Little by little, they give up pretending that they don't know about them, and little by little, Cal gives up pretending that he doesn't know they know. As to Gillian, they have tacitly agreed that she also knows they know and still won't mention it. One of the advantages when you are able to communicate without words.

"Mind your own frigging business," Cal snaps before he leaves the room, grabbing Gillian's wrist and basically dragging her along.

He is in a bad mood today. Torres and Loker noticed the moment he came in this morning.

Therefore, Gillian is wary of what will happen next. This is not Cal's regular _Let's shag_ mode. Something is different, has been different since yesterday. Of course, she sensed it but wanted to allow Cal the time and space to tell her about it on his terms.

He doesn't let go of her wrist, holds on to it even when they are in his office and he closed the door behind them. Gillian looks at him expectantly. He is dead serious. There are not many situations she can remember that caused such a facial expression and each of the situations that come to her mind was very disturbing. Nothing she is in need of reliving.

"What?" she asks concerned.

Cal hesitates, his thumb absent-mindedly caressing her wrist. Then he looks straight in her eyes and swallows. _Strong emotion_, she can't help the thought because it's so textbook. The sight turns her stomach.

"What is it?" Gillian asks again even more concerned. She almost doesn't want to know. The look on his face scares her.

"Doyle contacted me."

She gasps for air and steps back, freeing her wrist from his grasp in the process.

"Say again?"

"Doyle...," Cal starts to repeat, but Gillian interrupts him.

"I got that...," her voice trails off. Then she visibly pulls herself together. "What did he want?"

Cal watches her narrowly, trying to estimate the effect his words have on her. All things considered, Gillian is doing fine. Very few nightmares. No PTSD. The scars of body and soul have almost healed. He hates that he has to be the one who reopens old sores.

"Same he wanted when he contacted me the first time. Me as an ally. To find the men who issued the order to kill him and got his family killed instead, the men behind the cover-up. They are still out there."

Gillian is as pale as a ghost, breathing fitfully. Cal is reminded of the horrible things that happened in the basement. He is afraid that she will hyperventilate and pass out. Then again, she has to know; he has to tell her.

"When did he contact you? And where?" she asks when she finds her voice again.

"Yesterday. After work. In the parking lot."

_Yesterday... _

For once, they left separately because Gillian wanted to do some grocery shopping and Cal wanted to have a talk with Emily about some details of her college plans. Nevertheless, Cal called Gillian on his way home and asked her if she minded staying with him at his house overnight. She remembers that she wondered at the urge in his voice when she told him that it would be okay if they spent one night apart and he stubbornly insisted on her coming over immediately, even offered to pick her up. In retrospect, it makes perfect sense. He neither wanted to leave Emily alone nor her after he had met Doyle.

If Doyle took the risk to approach Cal one more time near their office, he must be desperate. Another night comes to her mind – several weeks ago when a pale face approached her in the middle of the night at her house and whispered threats to her. _Jimmy Doyle is looking for revenge. If he tries to contact Lightman, make sure your partner does the right thing._

They were threatened because of Doyle. They almost died because of Doyle. In a way, it is not Doyle's fault and Gillian is aware that he helped to save them. Cal told her all about it. He, the criminal, is a victim himself in this story. However, it all comes back to him and the mere mention of his name is enough to make Gillian tense up and shiver.

"You can't help him, Cal. It's too dangerous. For you. For Emily. Don't do it, please!" she almost stumbles on her own words, can't get them out fast enough.

Gillian knows Cal. After what happened, he has undeniable proof that it was a cover-up, and now that Doyle contacted him again, he will want to blow the whistle on it and join Doyle in his scheme of revenge.

Cal gets closer to her and touches her arm soothingly. "Don't worry. Everything's fine," he assures her.

"How can you say that everything's fine?" she snarls at him angrily, trying to get away from his grasp.

He lets go of her arm but grabs her shoulders instead carefully. Tears flood Gillian's eyes. Of course, she was aware of the possibility that Doyle is still out there. There was a reason she never talked to Cal about it though. She was so happy that things were back to normal, at least seemingly, that she deferred to deal with this, yet unsolved, aspect sometime later. However, repression is never a good thing. She of all people should know that.

"How can you say that everything's fine?" she repeats since Cal makes no move to answer her because he is busy worrying about her mental state. That much she can tell by the concerned look on his face.

"Because I told Doyle that I'm out," he eventually says almost as if he can't believe it himself.

She stares at him.

"And he... what? Wished you luck and accepted it? Just like that?" Gillian asks incredulously and snaps her fingers.

"Something like that... yeah."

Cal can see that she doesn't believe him, that her fear doesn't allow her to read in his face that he is telling the truth. Therefore, he gently grabs her face with both hands to make her focus.

"He saw us in the basement, Gill. Saw how I carried you out of there, how scared to death I was to lose you. Doyle lost his family; he knows how it feels and he accepts that the stakes are too high, that I won't risk another time to lose the woman I love – no matter how much I want to expose the cover-up and the men behind it."

"So, what is going to happen now?" she whispers.

Cal just said it. The men behind all this are probably still out there. Only the henchmen were killed in the basement.

"Nothing. As I told you, everything's fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

He looks away and then back at her.

"Because I made sure of it," Cal then says vaguely, and for the split of a second and before he continues to speak, Gillian almost fears that he put someone to death to save her. His next words, however, put things in perspective. "I have a source at the Pentagon and let them know I won't join forces with Doyle. In return, they dropped the case as far as our involvement is concerned. No more nightly visits to any of our houses. No more threats. No more mortal danger. The men who issued the command to kill Andrews because he wanted to relieve his consciousness after all those years and who intended to kill us, too, are no longer in a position to do any harm. There was a purge. The possible negative effects of further off the record activities were considered far too high a risk after what happened in the basement although they still may go after Doyle."

For a brief moment, there is no sound except their breathing as Gillian processes the information.

"When did you contact your source?" she then asks, already aware what his answer will be.

This is one of Cal's long cons. Well, actually it's no long con at all, but it's equally meticulously planned.

"Every now and then during the last weeks," he confirms her assumption. "They already knew I would reject Doyle. I was only waiting for him to contact me."

He couldn't know how Doyle would react, but apparently, and fortunately, it worked out. Of course, there is still a balance of risk, but this is the best they can get. They will have to live with it. Doyle as well as the men behind the cover-up will leave them alone.

"So, that's it?" Gillian says relieved. "It's over? We're free?"

"Yeah, we're free," Cal states, letting his hands drop to hers, tenderly holding on to them. "If you can be free when we're together that is because of the leash you told me about..."

The look on her face is pure confusion. She has no idea what he is talking about until he repeats her own words to her she said to him when they were arguing in his office right before the explosion. _It's as if you keep me on a short leash._ _Sometimes you loosen the reins but at the very moment when I think I'm free, you pull me back._ He wanted to talk about it back then, but she rejected it with a shrug. Ever since her words have been stuck in his head and now seems to be the suitable moment to bring it up.

There is no leash. Not even figuratively speaking. What Gillian referred to back then was Cal's ability to tug her along no matter how badly he treated her. Some nice words or tender gestures were always enough to change her mind in the past. If she is honest with herself, he didn't even need to be nice; she wouldn't have left him, anyway. So, no, he doesn't need a leash to keep her at his side. She's staying of her own accord. But what sometimes felt forced in the past, and made her point it out to him, feels good now.

Gillian blinks, tearing up again. This time, though, the tears are not caused by fear or sadness. On the contrary, she is almost overwhelmed with happiness. Cal had the ultimate chance to expose the cover-up and chose her over his need to blow the whistle. She can't be dead certain, but she highly doubts that he would have done that a few months ago. Not the old Cal who chose his own needs over everybody else's. He proved another time that he has changed.

"Forget that I mentioned it. Really," Gillian emphasizes when Cal frowns quizzically, wondering whether she drops the subject too easily, and as a matter of fact, there is more to it. "Forget it." She repeats and squeezes his hand. "It made sense, at least to me, when I said it back then, but we cleared it up." She leans over and kisses him tenderly. Everything's fine," she uses his words.

"Okay," Cal eventually agrees.

He still can barely read her, but she would never tell him to forget about it if it wasn't the truth and he trusts her.

They only exchanged words and a tender kiss. However, resolving these issues lifted a burden weighing several tons from their shoulders and Cal does what he always does in a situation like this – he moves. In doing so, he stumbles slightly, supporting himself against his bookshelf and knocking over a bronze figure in the process that crashes on the floor with a loud thump.

Gillian winces startled, but Cal only sneers.

"Well, _now_ Torres and Loker _definitely_ think we're shagging in here right now," he states highly pleased.

* * *

When they are at her house by late evening on the same day, Gillian is already drifting toward sleep when she hears Cal call Emily and is reminded of the first night they spent together. He called Emily back then to tell her that he would stay the night as he does now. Gillian was almost asleep and heard him talk in the background in a hushed voice. Cal told his daughter that he was with her and that he would explain the rest later. Well, in a way, he already said it all. He was _with her_. Not much more to explain. The fact that Emily loves Gillian and Gillian loves Emily made it all easy and uncomplicated. Like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

They admitted their strong feelings to each other. Countless times by now. _I love you._ It didn't even remotely feel odd when she said it for the first time as if the words had been waiting to be spoken for all these years.

"You don't have to stay," Gillian mumbles sleepily when Cal crawls back into bed. It's always the same ritual. The first night back then and every night they spend together ever since. She doesn't want to separate him from his daughter although she loves it when he stays the night. Occasionally, they spend the night at Cal's house, have breakfast together with Emily the next morning like a family. He gets his bacon and eggs. She gets her coffee. And Emily simply gets to enjoy the company of the two people she loves the most in the world aside from her mother. These are the moments when the feeling of happiness almost threatens to tear Gillian apart. It's too good to be true. Yet, it is. Keeping both of their houses is only a question of time. They don't need two places to live. They only need one home. Things change.

Cal snuggles up against her back. "Emily doesn't mind and I want to stay. Can't imagine being anywhere else," he whispers, gently kissing the back of her neck before they fall asleep.

Yes, things change. And sometimes for the better.

* * *

**- The End -**

**Merry X-Mas**

**Cee xoxo**


End file.
